


we will be remembered

by cptniall



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, OT4, Power Bottom Harry, Solo Artist Harry, also featuring some of your favourite fic cliches such as, emotionally unavailable louis, harry’s journal is pretty much it’s own character, implications that liam has a crush on zayn, jovial ot5 banter, lilo banter, louis drinking tea, many many references to their own lyrics, mentions of elounor - Freeform, niall being gross with food, unrequited larry pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-08 15:10:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 40,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4309977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cptniall/pseuds/cptniall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where everything is the same except Harry was born exactly a year earlier and it changed absolutely everything</p>
            </blockquote>





	we will be remembered

**Author's Note:**

> so back in december i was talking to brigitte and this happened;  
> “I never believed in fate until one direction. and that sounds so lame and whatever but it's true”  
> “NO I KNOW FUCK it was the first year harry could audition if he was a year older he could've auditioned a year earlier and never even met the other boys o h my god I need a moment”
> 
> and then ten minutes later i messaged aisha;  
> “I hate myself and now I'm going to go home when I finish work and write a larry fic where harry is a year older and auditioned in 2009 rip”
> 
> and seven months later, here we are.

_“And the winner of the X Factor 2009…” It was the longest pause in the history of time. People in the audience were dying of old age, for sure. “…Harry Styles!”_

_Harry's jaw dropped open, his eyes going wider than he thought humanly possible and all colour draining from his face. No. No no no, surely this wasn’t what was happening. He was only 16 years old, things like this weren’t supposed to happen to him._

_But yet, it did. This was real and this was happening. The runners up contestants jumped all over him and messed up his curly hair, but it took a good minute before it actually sunk in to Harry what was happening._

_The whole room was screaming, the fans Harry had come to love so much already on their feet cheering and clapping. The noise of it all was almost deafening, but Harry just grinned, beamed so brightly it rivalled the sun, tears stinging at his eyes. He’d done it. He’d won._

Harry looks down at his lap with a tight-lipped smile as the sound dies down on the television screen.

“That was over five years ago now, can you believe it? If you’re just tuning in, I’m here with the one and only Harry Styles. It’s just incredible to have you, Harry.” The interviewer pauses briefly to give Harry a smile, which he catches as he looks back up from his lap. “Harry, obviously winning the X Factor changed so much for you. It changed your life, really. But do you think things would have gone differently if you hadn’t won? Would you have still pursued a career in music? I mean you were only 16, you were so young!”

Harry nods, slowly and cautiously, as he thinks of a response. He’s been told what to say in these situations, what sort of answer he should be giving and what phrases and topics he should avoid. 

“I dunno, I guess, like… I’ll never know what could’ve happened.” Harry says, scratching at the back of his neck now and acting nonchalant, like it’s not something he thinks about all the time. “I suppose I wouldn’t have minded like, being in a band, or something. I was in a band for a while, with a few of my friends, when I was younger. That was quite cool.”

Harry barely has to glance behind the camera to know that his manager and agent are giving him exasperated and expectant looks. 

“But, I don’t mind being a solo artist.” Harry adds reluctantly, giving a quick pointed glance at his team. “It’s fun.”

It’s not like it’s some taboo subject, something they’ve never discussed before. Harry is the kind of person that likes to remain a mystery; he’s always been very careful not to share too much of himself with the world. But most people close to him and heard the drunken ‘what if’s, the mumbled ‘maybe’s, the optimistic ‘someday’s. The only verbal, solid indication that Harry’s perfect pop star life is actually far from it.

“Well, you’re certainly doing well for yourself on your own.” The interviewer responds with a big smile. Harry tries to reciprocate it, but his efforts fall short, his mouth merely turning up a little in the corners. “Two Grammy’s, five American Music Awards, four BRIT awards, you were Spotify’s Most Streamed Artist of the Year last year, that’s pretty impressive!”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s been a good few years. Couldn't have done it without my fans, they’ve been absolutely incredible.” Harry says, nodding semi-enthusiastically. It’s not a lie - Harry knows he’s got talent, but he owes everything to his fans. They’re the ones who voted for him to win X-Factor, they’re the ones who bought his debut album and made it a number one, they’re the ones who continue to watch his videos and listen to his music and tweet him and support him in literally every single thing he does. 

And then there’s his team - who are now tapping their watches and gesturing aggressively at the interviewer and the producers of the show. Harry swallows hard, fighting every natural instinct to roll his eyes or sigh or anything else to show how over this he is. These interviews are made to seem natural and chatty and not at all orchestrated - if only the fans knew what really happens. It’s all ‘you can’t say this, or that’ and ‘keep it to five minutes max’. 

“Well, congratulations again Harry. Harry’s new album, _Where Do Broken Hearts Go_ , is out on Monday, make sure you buy it, it’s just as good as the first three!”

Harry is practically snatched away as soon as the cameras are turned off, people grabbing at him from either side and pushing him towards the exit. His manager at least has the decency to shoot him an apologetic smile before thrusting Harry’s cellphone in his hand.

“Simon’s on the phone.” He says. “Must be important.”

Harry nudges his way through the small crowd his entourage (he hates that word) makes up, past a few screaming fans waiting outside and finally slides into the backseat of his car. It smells like new car and faintly of expensive leather and it’s the closest thing to comfort Harry’s had all day.  

“Hello?” 

“Harry, hi. It’s Simon.” The familiar voice comes through the phone. Harry puts the phone on speaker in his lap as he puts his seat belt on, shifting on the comfortable leather seats.

“Hi, how are you?”

“I have an opportunity for you.” Harry bites his lip, a little taken aback by Simon’s bluntness. One thing about this life Harry will never get used to is how impolite everyone can be sometimes. Everyone just wants to get their job done and move on, no one wants to make any fun of it. Harry tried that, when he first started out. He pulled pranks on people and laughed and poked fun at his manager, but while their tight-lipped smiles and tense body language said it all. It didn’t take long for Harry to realise that there’s no point trying to forge a relationship with these people when they just aren’t interested.

“What is it?” Harry plasters a smile on his face in attempt to disguise the sharpness in his tone, even though Simon can’t actually see him.

“I have a project at the moment.” Simon responds, peaking Harry’s interest. “This boyband, they’re good but they could be better. They’re coming to a dinner party I’m having at my house tomorrow night, I want you to come and meet them.”

Harry frowns, scratching gently at a smudge on his jeans. He has a few ideas about who Simon is talking about, but then again there’s plenty of failing boybands out there. 

“Okay. But like, how is meeting them an opportunity for me?”

“They need help, Harry. The kind of help that a successful pop star like you can give them.” Harry feels his whole body tense up at the words. He hates when people talk about him like that, refer to him in regards to his fame rather than his personality. “They’re about your age, maybe you can relate to them, inspire them. They’ve been trying to write their second album for over a year, and it’s all… well, as I said, they could be doing better.”

Harry nods slowly, trying to wrap his head around it. 

“What if they don’t like me?”

Simon laughs through the phone. “Harry, everybody likes you.”

Harry feels himself smiling at this, not missing the way his driver is also smiling. It’s true - the people Harry works with may be harsh and selfish at times, but they’re also all completely charmed by Harry. Most people are. 

“Just meet them. See how it goes.” Simon continues. Harry chews his lip thoughtfully, but only for a moment.

“Okay. I can do that.”

“Thanks, Harry. I’ll see you at 6:30.”

Simon hangs up without another word, and Harry sighs. He cranes his neck to look out the far window, at the buildings and people on the street. Most of them would freak out if they knew Harry Styles was in the car driving past them. That’s the problem, really. Harry doesn’t want people to freak out; he wants them to talk to him, to laugh with him and make friends with him. No 22-year-old boy should be physically incapable of naming more than five people he’s actually genuinely friends with. It’s quite pathetic, really. 

Harry arrives home forty minutes and one food stop later, relieved more than anything to have the chance to be alone and comfortable and able to unload. Today has been tense. Thank god it’s almost over. 

Everything about Harry’s house is familiar and soothing and as soon as he walks through the front door it’s like taking a deep breath of fresh, clean air. At the end of every day, no matter how many photos he takes and interviews he does and paparazzi he encounters or how tired he is, he’s always greeted by medium brown floor boards, white walls, huge windows looking out on beautiful trees, an absurdly large bed and the smell of vanilla candles and clean sheets. It’s home, and even though he doesn’t share it with anyone, it’s all Harry needs to feel comfortable. Except maybe a cat. He could do with having a cat, mostly because then it wouldn’t be so weird when he has fully-fledged conversations with himself. 

It’s late in the evening, and Harry could very easily just walk straight from the front door down the hall to his bedroom and go to sleep, but he doesn’t. Days like this, he needs a little more than a mass of pillows and an early night.

Harry forces himself to trudge up the stairs, taking them slowly and almost tripping over a couple, and by the time he gets to the top he kind of wants to crawl the rest of the way. Harry’s kitchen and living area is expansive and beautiful, continuing to amaze Harry even now, months after he’s moved in. The dining table in one corner seats ten (which is seven more seats than Harry has ever needed), the deep, inviting black couch in the opposite corner has far too many pillows on it than is practical but fuck is it comfortable, and there’s expensive prints on the wall above it that Harry’s manager got him to celebrate the release of his second album two years ago. The best part though, is the view.

Harry pads through the kitchen, picking up a bottle of water off the counter as he does, over to the far wall of the living room, which is made up entirely of windows and glass folding doors. He pushes open one of the doors, night breeze hitting every bit of exposed skin as he walks out onto his own little slice of heaven - his terrace. It in itself is almost as big as Harry’s grandparents house, with glass railings surrounding the three sides. And the view is absolutely incredible.

Harry can see most of the city from where he stands, leaning lazily over the railing and taking a large gulp of his water. It looks best at night, in Harry’s opinion, like right now. Harry’s always loved looking at the stars, but the thing about living in London city is that the stars are hard to see even on clear nights. This, the street lights and buildings, looking so lively even late at night, is close enough for Harry.

He stays out on the terrace for a while, though he doesn’t intend to. It’s become almost a tradition for him - that’s why he bought a set of extremely comfortable lounge chairs for the space a couple of months ago. He’d figured he spends that much time out here, standing against the railing and contemplating everything, that he might as well make it comfortable for himself. But the chairs have been sat in exactly twice since they were purchased - once one the first day Harry got them, and once when his sister Gemma came to visit and thought they looked comfortable. Harry always stands, always comes out to the terrace under the premise of only staying for a moment to take in the view, then returning inside, and always ends up standing and thinking and staring and just _breathing_ for no less than twenty minutes.

It’s twenty-seven minutes tonight before Harry takes one last deep breath and goes back inside, turning off all the lights as he goes, heading downstairs and throwing himself across his bed with a gentle thud. 

He stares at his closet doors and remembers suddenly that he has to go to Simon’s dinner party tomorrow night. A groan escapes Harry’s lips as he rolls over on the bed, now laying on his back and staring at the roof. This means he has to pick an outfit. A super cute outfit too, because knowing Simon, at least one of the guys in this mysterious boyband will be well fit. 

Harry can’t help but mentally go over all the boybands he can think of, wondering who it is that Simon’s set him up with (because let’s be honest, that’s what this is - it’s an arranged marriage). He mentioned they were around Harry’s age, which doesn’t do much to limit the options. Hell, Harry’s heard songs by about seven different moderately successful boybands in their twenties in the last 48 hours alone. It could literally be anyone. 

White Eskimo could’ve made it big, Harry finds himself thinking, right before he bursts out laughing. It’s true, his old band from high school had talent and potential, but they were also fucking kids, and had no idea what it took to be a successful band. The sacrifices Harry has had to make since he went on the X-Factor are things that those boys couldn’t have even imagined, Harry himself included. 

It’s not that Harry wouldn’t have wanted to stay in the band. Harry sighs, squeezing his eyes shut and not letting them open again. Everything happens for a reason, he knows that, repeats it to himself every day. And he’s eternally grateful for everything he’s had in life since auditioning for X-Factor five years ago. But at least the boys in White Eskimo still have each other. Harry hasn’t spoken to any of them in a year.

Harry hasn’t spoken to a lot of people in a long time. 

Maybe this enigma boyband have the right idea, Harry thinks to himself as he nuzzles his head into a pillow. Maybe being a failing boyband member is a much more fulfilling and enjoyable life to lead than being a mega-star solo artist. 

Harry sighs again as he feels himself getting closer and closer to falling asleep. None of this matters, anyway. Because he’s Harry Styles, he is a solo musician, and he doesn’t get to change that. 

 

 

/ / /  


 

 

There are too many fucking sheer shirts in Harry’s closet. Who let him buy this many shirts?

Harry sighs deeply. _But I love them all_ , the other half of his brain whines. It’s like he has a devil and an angel on his shoulder but both of them are the same, impeccably well-dressed version of himself.

Harry considers himself a very stylish person, who owns many stylish (and extremely expensive) items of clothing, yet picking an outfit for such an occasion as meeting new work friends is a very arduous and painstaking task. If Harry chooses the wrong shirt or the wrong coloured headscarf or leaves too many buttons undone, it could ruin the entire evening. This is a very important decision, and there’s about sixty different coloured and patterned shirts hanging neatly in front of him, all of which give off a very different mood and vibe.  

Suddenly, it’s like a neon sign is glowing, and Harry’s eyes light up with sheer excitement.

“Flamingoes, yes!” Harry cheers to himself, practically ripping the black patterned shirt off its hanger. Never doubt the power of pretty pink birds. “How did I not think of this earlier?”

Harry pulls the short-sleeved shirt on and buttons it up four from the bottom before stopping to admire himself in the mirror. The butterfly tattoo on his stomach is half visible, which is just the right amount in his opinion. Harry grins at his own reflection, flicking a bit of hair out of his eye to get a better view.

He’s going to totally blow everyone’s minds at this party. 

Except, Simon barely even says hello when he greets Harry at the door, let alone make any comments about his outfit. He just ushers him down the hall, past a few people Harry tries (and fails) to say hello to until they’re in Simon’s spacious living room. There’s a few people about, notably four boys huddled together around the fireplace, like they’re having their own private conversation that no one else is allowed to be apart of. 

“Harry Styles, this is One Direction.” Simon claps his hand down on the shoulder of one of the boys, causing all four boys to turn and face Harry. Four vaguely familiar pairs of eyes are now on him, staring at him in bewilderment and shock. 

“Hi.” Harry mumbles, waving awkwardly and honestly hoping they’d all look anywhere else, anywhere but at Harry. 

“Shit.” One of them, a blonde boy, blurts. His cheeks flush red, but an awed grin stretches across his face. 

“Hi, uh, I’m Liam,” the tallest one starts, gesturing to himself. “This is Zayn, Niall and Louis.” He gestures first to an extremely attractive dark haired boy with sharp features, then the blonde boy who’s now fiddling with his hands and finally, a shorter brunette boy with the most beautiful face Harry has ever seen. 

Harry's seen and heard of One Direction before, of course. He always takes an interest in X-Factor contestants, and these boys had been no different. They’d auditioned individually in 2010, but Simon put them together as a band and they’d ended up coming third. They'd been adorable and fresh-faced and sounded great - everyone had expected a lot of them, especially after Harry’s success. But their first album, _Up All Night_ , was a flop, and they haven’t been heard of much since. 

Harry’s going to pretend he doesn’t know about that, though. 

“One Direction were on the X-Factor the year after you.” Simon continues as way of initiating conversation, and Harry nods like he didn’t already know this. 

“Oh, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some hosting things to attend to.” Simon says before darting off, leaving Harry alone with the four strangers.

“So…” Liam starts, rather awkwardly. Harry takes note of the way he sort of tucks himself into Zayn’s side. “Simon thinks you might be able to help us with our new album.”

“Yeah, to be honest we could use the help.” The blonde one, Niall, nods. His cheeks are still slightly red, and Harry can’t tell if he’s blushing or if he’s just naturally flushed. 

“Niall doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” Louis cuts in, sounding like he’s only half-joking. “We’re good. We just…”

“Writers block.” Zayn finishes. “A really, really long writers block.”

“That’s what happens when you decide to do all the writing yourself when you’ve only ever done one album and have nothing to write about.” Liam adds, looking to the floor bashfully. 

“Hey, lads, let’s not undersell ourselves.” Louis puts one arm around Niall’s shoulder. “We’re very capable of producing a _great_ album.” He looks up at Harry, giving him a pointed glare. “By ourselves.”

Harry chews his lip nervously, returning Louis’ gaze with a much softer one. Not like Harry can really bring himself to look anywhere else right now. Louis is pretty fucking gorgeous, even when he’s all bitchy. 

“Hey, if you don’t want me to help, that’s okay. Like, I get that. It’s just… Simon asked me if I would, so, I thought I’d offer.” Harry shrugs, running a hand through his untamed hair. 

“No, we want you to help.” Liam rushes, eyes slightly wider and face more startled-looking now. “Please. It would be great. I mean, you’ve been so successful, and you’re so talented, you’re obviously doing something right.”

Liam’s eyes are big and round and innocent, yet as they stare at Harry, and Harry stares back, he finds himself intimidated. Liam has clearly put all his eggs in Harry’s basket before Harry has even proved himself capable of helping them. 

Harry wants nothing more than to be able to help these boys, if he’s honest. _Up All Night_ may not have done very well, but Harry still has a copy of it in his house somewhere that he listened to pretty religiously for a few days after he bought it. Harry knows that One Direction have talent, and looking at them now, they’re clearly all charming and handsome and Harry honestly can’t see why they wouldn’t be able to find success.

But it’s all seeming like a little too much pressure, so in an effort to diffuse the tension, Harry widens his eyes comically wide and pulls a face back at Liam (the one Ed calls his ‘frog face’). A wave of what feels like relief washes over Harry as Niall bursts into hysterics, and the other three boys giggle quietly with him. 

“I’ll definitely do my best. I really liked your first album, so I’d be honoured to help with your second.” Harry grins, looking from face to face until his gaze falls on Louis, with his perfect quiff and clean shaven face and tanned skin.

“You did?” Niall asks, looking half-bemused, half-shocked. Harry nods.

“Like you bought it, and listened to it, and enjoyed it?” Liam pushes. Harry nods again, this time with a smirk. 

“It was good. Really catchy.” Harry says, still smiling at them all reassuringly. “You guys have talent, for sure.”

“Well, Simon has our numbers.” Liam says, his cheeks glowing as he beams at Harry. “All of them. And our emails, if that’s easier for you. And we can send you our addresses, so you can come over. Or, I dunno, maybe it’ll be easier to meet at like a coffee shop or something. Unless you don’t like coffee—“

“Liam.” Louis interrupts, leaning forward to look at him past Zayn and Niall. “Reign it in.”

Harry laughs a little, not in a mocking way, but in a fond way, which Liam seems to appreciate. Zayn pats him on the shoulder gently.

“We’ll get in touch with you somehow.” Zayn assures Harry, he too grinning from ear to ear. 

“Will you take a selfie with us?” Niall blurts, smiling like a kid on Christmas. Harry feels himself blushing, but Zayn, Louis and Liam just laugh.

“Niall loves a good selfie.” Louis smiles, giving Niall a pat on the back that apparently to Niall is permission. Niall quickly whips his phone out of his pocket, the other boys squishing in closer to each other to fit in the frame. Harry awkwardly shuffles closer, but Liam slings a thick arm around his shoulder to pull him in so close he can smell a mixture of four different colognes wafting from each of the other boys. 

“Nice shirt, by the way.” Louis comments as he crows in next to Harry. Harry’s whole face burns with excitement and bashfulness as he beams back at Louis. A man of fine taste. Harry likes him already. He also wants to dress him up in every single one of his shirts and watch him do a little fashion parade, but that’s an entirely different issue.

“Thanks.”

Harry notices from looking at the screen of Niall’s iPhone that while he, Liam, Niall and Zayn are smiling, Louis is pulling a face with his mouth wide open, pointing at Harry. Harry finds himself almost disappointed - it would have been nice, after all, to have permanent visual evidence of what that gorgeous smile that could rival the sun looks like. But Louis looks so adorable it's hard to be mad.

“It was really nice to meet you!” Niall gushes after they all shuffle away from each other again. He’s still beaming at Harry, and it’s so adorable and endearing that Harry kind of wants to keep him.

“Yeah, you too. I’ll see you guys soon.” Harry promises with a returned smile, giving all of them a friendly little wave (plus a cheeky smirk for Louis) before wandering off to find Simon and maybe offer his assistance with setting up for dinner.

He finds Simon back in the hallway, talking to a friend of his that Harry vaguely recognises from a meeting or something. The man shakes Harry’s hand and gives him a curt nod before leaving him alone with Simon.

“So, thoughts?” Simon prompts, crossing his arms across his chest and giving Harry a smile that on Simon’s face looks almost smug. “Questions, comments, suggestions?”

“I really like them.” Harry says honestly, nodding his head a little. “They seem like really cool guys. Working with them would be fun.”

Simon nods, like he knows exactly what Harry means. 

“What did you think of Louis?” 

“Louis?” Harry flushes. Surely he hasn’t clued on already to Harry’s attraction to Louis. Like, he was obvious, but he wasn’t _that_ obvious… Was he? “Why… Um, he’s alright. A bit blunt.”

“He’s quite the character is’t he.” Simon chortles. “Louis’ the leader, so to speak. The other three sort of worship him. And he’s taken on a lot of the creative work for the new album. I thought if you were going to help them, working with him would be the best place to start.”

Harry nods, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He can’t help but smile broadly, the thought of working closely with Louis in particular making his insides do a happy dance (not literally, of course).  

“I figure you can meet up with them a few times, get a sort of feel for their vibe, what they want their album to be. Then start helping them with the songwriting and all the rest.” Simon pauses, briefly, to take a sip of his drink. It smells like scotch. “They could’ve been the next big boy band.” Simon’s not really looking at Harry anymore, but over his shoulder wistfully. “They still could be, under the right influence. They just need a little help.”

Harry nods again, understanding perfectly. 

“I’m not sure how much help I can be, but I’ll do my best.”

“That’s all I can ask of you, Harry.” Simon says with a smile, patting Harry on the shoulder affectionately.  

Their conversation leads to Harry’s new album and his family and what his mum and sister have been up to, until eventually, dinner is served, and they take their places at Simon’s fancy dining table.

Harry chooses his seat rather carefully, sitting across the table from Niall and Louis. A couple of older looking gentlemen are seated between them and Zayn and Liam, who seem to be having their own private conversation, judging by the way they’re leaning in quite close to each other, Zayn’s lips practically pressed to Liam’s ear, talking in hushed tones. No one else seems to pay them any attention though, like it’s a very commonplace thing to happen. 

The dinner goes well for the most part, with Louis making jokes more often than not and Niall and Harry laughing in unison whenever he does - that is, until one particular story about Louis supergluing Liam’s hands together, when Harry laughs so hard he spits some of his wine out.

Harry decides to keep to himself after that.

While checking his phone in the car on the way home, Harry happens upon an Instagram post; 

**niallhoran** : great to meet ya @harrystyles! nicest lad, what a legend! 

It’s the selfie they took, cropped so that Niall’s face is only half in it, but the far ends of Harry’s curls are still within frame. A wide grin plasters itself across Harry’s face as he follows Niall and screenshots the post. And maybe he continues to look at it approximately every thirty seconds on the way back to his house with that same broad grin. 

 

 

/ / /

 

 

It’s five long, press-filled days before Harry hears from One Direction. He’d sent Simon an email the morning after the party asking him to forward his direct and personal contact details on to the boys, specifically Louis, and has anxiously checked his phone every ten minutes since (he’s also had _Up All Night_ playing at every available opportunity, and one late night even found himself searching ‘One Direction funniest moments’ on YouTube, but that’s neither here nor there). 

But, continuing the streak of good luck he seems to be having lately, Harry happens to be alone and in his kitchen, cooking himself dinner when his phone rings (his ringtone is What Makes You Beautiful, and he’s never turning his phone on vibrate again). As soon as he sees it’s an unfamiliar number, he scrambles to answer it, knocking some onion and carrot on the floor as he does. 

“Hello?” Harry says, rather breathless.

“Hi, is this Harry?” The voice is definitely not Louis’. Harry feels his shoulders slump at this. 

“Yeah, hi.” Harry replies awkwardly. It sounds like Liam, but he doesn’t want to ask if it’s Liam just in case it isn’t - after all, they’ve only met once, and Harry could easily be mistaken. 

“Hi Harry! It’s Liam Payne, from One Direction.” Harry smiles broadly at this. Like there’s another Liam Payne that would be calling him. 

“Hi Liam.” Harry replies, drawing out each word even more than usual. “How are you?”

Harry bends down to sweep up the spilled ingredients off his kitchen floor. It’s almost second nature now, he has that many accidents when he’s cooking.

“I’m great! Great.” Liam chirps in response. “Listen, I know you’re probably super busy—“ He isn’t. “so I’ll make it quick. Are you free sometime this week for a meeting? To talk about the album?”

Harry freezes in his place, his free hand holding the dustpan over the bin. He’s spent the last five days since the party imagining how his conversation with Louis would go, and where they’d go for their meeting, and what Louis would say and how Harry would laugh. He did not, at any point, imagine that Liam would be the one meeting with him (as lovely as Liam seems). 

“Sure.” Harry makes his voice over-cheerful to try and mask the disappointment. “I’ve got a free afternoon tomorrow, actually.”

“That works great!” Liam sounds genuinely thrilled, and though Harry is still pouty and disappointed, he can’t help but feel warmed by this. “Tomorrow’s great. How’s 3pm? Or any other time, if you’re busy then.”

Harry mentally goes through his plans for the afternoon, which involve a quick phone interview at 2pm and then a whole lot of nothing.

Now that he’s had a moment to process everything, it’s definitely still exciting, the idea of meeting with Liam. Harry was just really hoping it would be Louis, is the thing. He chastises himself for placing importance on that over getting to know Liam, who, as far as Harry can tell, seems like a really lovely guy.

“3pm works for me.” 

“Oh cool! Um, whereabouts is good for you? Like, for not getting mobbed and stuff.” 

“There’s a cafe on Morris street that’s usually paparazzi free.” Harry suggests, now resuming his cooking with the hand he has free.

“Alright great, Louis will meet you there then.” Liam says like it’s the most casual thing in the world. It’s not. It’s a really important and crucial detail. Harry feels like his insides are flipping around happily, a broad smile breaking out on his face. All thoughts of how nice it will be to meet up with Liam instantly vanish, because _Louis_. “He would’ve called you himself you know, but he’s quite stubborn. Anyway, have a nice night!” 

And with that, Liam hangs up. Harry, however, holds the phone to his ear for a moment longer, a big, goofy grin plastered to his face. 

He gets to see Louis again.

The next 20 hours drag on so much, but the phone interview goes well and Harry’s hair is quite cooperative today, so he’s in a very good mood when he arrives at the coffee shop he and Liam agreed on, only two minutes past three. 

Louis is already there when Harry walks in. He spots him almost immediately - it’s hard not to, really. He’s sitting in a table in a far corner (which Harry is very grateful for, given how many people are around), hands on the table, fiddling with the sleeves of his hooded sweatshirt. He’s totally keeping to himself, yet he still attracts attention and radiates sunshine. Harry can think of at least ten cliches in his head just from looking at Louis, and he’s not even ashamed of it. 

Louis looks up, startled, when Harry carefully sits in the chair across from him.

“Hi.” Harry says, giving his best smile. The shock has worn off Louis’ face now, and he gives a small smile back.

“Hey.” He says, extending his hand across the table at Harry. 

Harry stares at it, eyebrows drawn together, totally confused. Is Louis asking to hold his hand? Because Harry would totally be okay with that.

“You know, usually, when someone offers you a handshake, you take it.” Louis says slowly, quirking an eyebrow at Harry with the tiniest smirk. Harry feels his cheeks flush. He’d entirely forgotten this was a work meeting, if he’s honest.

“Right, sorry.”

He takes Louis’ hand, shaking it embarrassingly aggressively. Louis just smiles, though, which puts Harry at ease just a little bit.

“I haven’t ordered anything yet.” Louis comments, glancing around the room, eyes eventually falling on the menu board. “Are you a tea or coffee person?”

“Tea, usually.” Harry can’t help but stare at Louis, his red t-shirt loosely hanging from his torso, dark grey sweatshirt pulled up a little in the arms to reveal a few small tattoos. “But water’s fine.”

Louis looks back at him with a disapproving look.

“Tea it is.” He says. Harry nods. He thinks he would drink bear piss if Louis told him to.

Harry gets up to order their drinks, but Louis insists quite aggressively that he’ll get it, and that he can pay by himself and doesn’t need Harry doing it for him, thank you very much. Harry just blinks, nods calmly, tells Louis he likes two sugars and gives him enough change to cover only his own tea, which seems to unsettle Louis a little. Simon did say Louis is the de factor leader of the band - maybe he’s not used to people being so unfazed by his bluntness. Maybe he’s used to getting his way. 

While Louis is waiting at the counter, he notices a few girls near the window staring at him with wide eyes. _Is that Harry Styles?_ he thinks he sees one of them whisper. Harry gives them a quick smile and a wave, causing them to squeal quietly to each other.

“So,” Harry starts when both he and Louis have their drinks. “What sort of direction were you looking to take with the new album?”

“If it would sell, that would be a good start.” Louis’ grumbles. Harry isn’t offended by it - he knows how hard it must have been for Louis, with such high expectations on the group, for their first album to not do well. 

“It will sell.” Harry assures him. “You guys have a lot of talent. And now that you’ve grown up a lot more, you never know. That may work better for you.”

Louis doesn’t say anything. He’s glancing around the room again, but Harry knows he’s listening. He’s just looking for an escape, a distraction. Louis doesn’t at all seem like the kind of person who likes talking about his failures.

(Not that Harry sees _Up All Night_ as a failure.) 

“What’s your favourite song from _Up All Night_? Maybe that’s a good place to start.” Harry asks carefully, pushing his tea backwards and forwards between his hands. 

Louis seems a bit more receptive to this, glancing down at the table and gently chewing on his lip.

“More Than This.” He says quietly, thoughtfully. “Zayn carries the chorus really well. Tell Me A Lie is one of my other favourites, probably.”

Harry’s favourite song from the album is More Than This as well. It’s a strong ballad, Liam kills it with his falsetto, and in Harry’s opinion, it’s the song Louis sounds the best in. 

“So like, if your sound for your new album was like those songs, that’s kind of what you want?” Harry asks. Louis shrugs.

“I guess.” He moves his hands from the table to his lap, glancing at Harry quickly before looking back at the table. “I dunno, I just want it to be different to the first album. It’s been four years since Up All Night came out, things have changed. We’ve changed.”

Harry nods, even though Louis is still looking anywhere but at him. 

The Louis sitting across from him, with tattoos and messy hair and stubble and dark clothing, would not suit dancing around a stage singing What Makes You Beautiful in coloured chinos and suspenders (even if What Makes You Beautiful is totally Harry’s jam). This Louis wants to be taken seriously, and Harry knows he has it in him to create some beautiful songs. 

Louis’ phone starts vibrating on the table, an incoming phone call lighting up the screen. He quickly picks it up, pushing the lock button to silence it before dropping it back on the table to ring out. 

“Do you need to get that?” Harry asks, nodding his head towards the phone.

“No. It’s just Eleanor.” Louis sort of grumbles. “My girlfriend.”

“Oh.” 

In all this fantasising and thinking about Louis, Harry hadn’t quite accounted for Louis having a girlfriend - or Louis being straight, for that matter. He usually has a pretty good radar for other gay people, but apparently his talents aren’t quite what he thought they were.

“No, I mean… she’s not." Louis sighs, frustrated, and takes a sip of his tea. Harry waits for him to say something else, but he doesn’t.  

“It’s good if you have a girlfriend,” Harry starts, slowly, even though he doesn’t agree with what he’s saying. “Love is good inspiration for writing.”

Louis lifts his head just enough to look at Harry like he's the world’s biggest idiot. Harry decides he never wants to see Louis look at him like that again.

“She’s not _actually_ my girlfriend, okay?” Louis says sharply. “She’s… She’s a friend of someone at our record label. A few months after the first album came out, people started to care about us less and less and our tour wasn’t selling very well and management thought it would be good for publicity if I had a girlfriend. Then they sat me down and told me that it’s in my best interest to keep pretending we’re together.” Louis pauses again, scratching his hand across his stubbled face. “It’s not like a beard or anything, I’m not _gay._ ”

Harry’s whole body tenses up, his jaw clenching and hands pressed together tightly. It’s not the first time he’s heard another person get defensive about not being gay, and he’s definitely learned to handle it over the years. But hearing it from _Louis_ just makes it sting that little bit more.

“Well, I am.” Harry says quietly yet still defiantly, looking Louis dead in the eye. Louis’ stern expression falters, being replaced with one of regret and guilt.

“I’m—I’m sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t know.” Louis glances at Harry again before looking back at the table. “That sounded really rude, the way I said it.” He frowns at his tea for a moment before looking back up at Harry, eyebrows drawn together in confusion. “I thought you were straight? You’re always out with girls, you get a new girlfriend for a few weeks every year, I see it everywhere.”

Harry resists the urge to roll his eyes. That would be rather impolite and it’s not Louis’ fault he’s been fed the same story as so many other people. 

“They’re just friends.” Harry admits. “I've never even said I’m dating any of them, like, ever. People just think what they want to think.”

“So what's your inspiration for song writing then?” Louis asks, rather dryly. Harry stares at him for a moment, confused, so Louis continues, “Well you said love is a good inspiration for song writing. But you’ve been single all this time.”

“You don’t have to be in love to be inspired by it.” Harry says after a moment of thought. Harry’s spent his whole life surrounded by love - the love his mother has for him, the love his friends have for their partners, the love his step father has for his mum, the love Harry has for his family, the love he and his friends share.

The love he has for this moment with Louis, Harry thinks as he watches Louis look down at the table again, this time looking rather pensive and thoughtful. His eyelashes are long, and cast a bit of a shadow on his tanned face. His hair looks soft and fluffy yet messy and boyish. Harry very much appreciates looking at Louis. 

“Well, I haven’t been feeling very inspired lately.” Louis admits. “Maybe that’s the problem.”

Louis’ phone rings again, and this time, Harry sees the name of the person calling - only it’s just three devil emojis. 

“That’s management.” Louis sighs, clearly frustrated. “Must be important. They probably need me for something.” He still presses the lock button to silence the call though. 

“Oh, yeah, probably best if I get going anyway.” Harry says, downing the last of his tea in one mouthful. 

“Sorry.” Louis mumbles. He slides his chair back and stands up, picking up his phone as he does. “We’ll do this again.”

Harry smiles at that, he too rising from his seat. He definitely wouldn’t mind seeing Louis again.

This time it’s Harry that extends his hand, and Louis who stares at it for a long moment, before eventually accepting the hand shake. 

“Thanks, by the way.” Louis says. “I know you don’t have to do this. And I know I’m a massive pain the ass, but…”

“It’s no bother, really.” Harry responds, a genuine smile on his face. “I want to do it. You guys seem really cool.”

Louis just nods in response, then jerks his thumb towards the front entrance.

“I’m parked out the front.”

“Yeah, I’m just gonna walk home.” Harry says, lazily pointing out in the same direction Louis just did. Louis nods, and together they silently head to the exit of the cafe.

There’s about five paparazzi waiting for Harry, cameras ready, when they leave the cafe. Harry tenses up instinctively. One of the girls inside must have tweeted that they saw him. It happens more often than Harry would like it to, and he still isn’t used to it. The feeling of not being able to exist in the real world even for a day is one Harry absolutely hates.

The cameras start flashing immediately, some of the paparazzi saying things like ‘who’s your friend, Harry?’, ‘did you enjoy your date?’ and ‘are you joining One Direction now?’. 

“I’m so sorry.” Harry says to Louis, reaching behind him to grab Louis’ arm. Almost a protective gesture. Louis jerks back, giving Harry a warning look.

“I’m not having people know me as your new winter girlfriend, Harry Styles.” He says. Harry feels it hit him in the stomach, and can only nod mutely in response.

Louis deserves to make his own headlines. And Harry wants to make sure that he does. 

 

 

_/ / /_

 

 

“What kind do you want, Harry?”

“Get pepperoni!” 

“Thank you Niall, but nobody asked you. You’ve already picked three flavours for yourself, you’ve reached your limit.”

Harry giggles, and upon seeing the laboured and frustrated look on Louis’ face, puts a finger to his lip and pretends to look thoughtful and pensive. 

“Hmmm… Maybe I should go with Supreme… or perhaps Meat Lovers.”

“Supreme is Zayn’s favourite.” Liam mumbles from his spot on the floor near the corner of the room.

“Oh my God, Liam, he’s only been gone like two hours. Get over it.” Louis throws the pillow he was leaning against in Liam’s direction, but it hardly makes it halfway across the room. “And Harold, if you don’t decide soon I’m sorry but you’ll just have to go hungry.”

Harry rolls his eyes overly dramatically, causing Louis to flip him off from the other end of the couch. 

“Did he just call me Harold?” Harry semi-whispers to Niall, who’s sat next to Harry with his arm around his shoulders like it’s the most natural thing in the world and they didn’t actually meet for the first time two weeks ago. It sort of feels that way though, with Niall.

“Probably.” Niall shrugs. “Louis loves giving people nicknames. Means he likes you. You’ll get used to it.”

No one’s ever called him Harold before. Probably because it isn’t actually his name. But Harry supposes he could get used to the nickname, so long as it’s Louis’ lips it’s falling from. 

And Louis _likes_ him. He knows Niall just means it in a friendly way, but the words still make Harry smile uncontrollably. 

“What nickname does he call you?” Harry asks after a moment of contemplation. 

“Lately he’s been going with Captain Skinny Dick.” Niall says with a smile, almost like he’s proud at the concept of being known for having a below-average sized penis. Harry giggles, half at Niall and half at the way Louis just caught Liam checking his phone and is now yelling at him. 

“You seem reasonably okay with that.” Harry comments, still giggling. Niall shrugs again.

“It’s better than Adolf Titler. That’s what he’s been calling Liam lately.”

Harry chokes on his laughter, like he can’t get it out fast enough. If Louis can channel some of the creative energy he uses to create nicknames into song writing, this new album will win all sorts of awards.

“What about Zayn?” Harry muses once he’s cleared his throat and stopped laughing.

“Zayn is Zayn.” Niall says, suddenly very serious. “Zayn doesn’t get nicknames.”

“— and if you send him one more sad face emoji I’m going to come over there and shove that phone right up your bleached asshole.”

Harry and Niall simultaneously burst into hysterics, and even Liam can’t help but laugh, though he’s clearly trying his hardest not to.

Harry’s only been at Zayn and Niall’s apartment for about 45 minutes now, but that’s more than long enough to realise that hanging around with the One Direction boys mostly involves aggressive but light-hearted teasing, moderate alcohol consumption and laughing at everything Louis says. Which works well for Harry, because as it happens, those are three things he’s quite good at. 

Louis is so clearly more relaxed around Niall and Liam than he was when he was just he and Harry in the coffee shop, and while Harry wants to be jealous about that, he’s more than anything appreciative and grateful that he gets to see this side of Louis at all. Goofy, caring, loving, and more than anything else, happy. Happy looks really good on Louis.

“So, I’m almost afraid to ask,” Harry starts, looking from Liam to Louis. “But where exactly is Zayn?”

Liam looks like Harry just kicked his puppy. 

“Zayn is on a date.” Louis informs Harry, pressing his lips together and raising his eyebrows. 

“It’s not a date!” Liam immediately protests, screwing up his face. 

“Zayn is _with a girl_.” Louis corrects, giving Liam a pointed glance. “A girl named Perrie. She sings in some girl group named Little Women or something, and our managers and her managers are making them spend time together for publicity.”

Niall’s laughing again, this time grabbing his stomach with the hand that was previously on Harry’s shoulder. It’s loud and adorable and infectious and Harry decides that he loves Niall a lot already. 

“Little Women?!” He gets out in between deep breaths and giggle fits. His eyes are crinkled and his whole face is going red as he rolls around the couch. “It’s _Little Mix_. Little Women is a book.”

Harry wants to defend Louis, but he can’t help but join Niall and Liam in their fits of laughter. 

Harry hasn’t laughed this much in ages, and his stomach’s burning and his eyes are welling up and he’s struggling to breath and it’s so many kinds of wonderful he’s not even sure how to handle it.

“Whatever, whatever.” Louis waves them all off, but a slight blush has crept into his cheeks. He picks up his phone again, resuming the pizza order he was placing on some app he apparently has. “Harry, screw you, you’re getting anchovies.”

Harry doesn’t mind anchovies, but he’s not going to tell Louis that because to be frank, he’s scared of what else Louis might do to his pizza to compensate. 

It’s only another fifteen minutes before they’re all sitting in the same spots, shovelling down pizza like it’s their last meal. They’ve ordered way too much, in Harry’s opinion (six large pizzas for four boys). But when he’d suggested this, Louis had just scoffed and said “you have a lot to learn about Niall”. 

“So,” Liam starts, not before checking his phone for what’s probably the eighty-second time since Harry got there. He looks more than a little disappointed, in the way that tells everyone that Zayn isn’t replying to him. “let’s talk about the album.”

Harry nods mutely as he swallows a bite of Niall’s cheese pizza. 

“Has anyone got any ideas?” Niall asks. His mouth is full, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “Like for songs, or the album title maybe?”

“I’ve been working on something.” Liam admits, almost sheepishly. “I mean, I’ve been working on a lot of things for a while. But I think I’ve like, I’ve finally got something good happening.”

“Oh really?” Harry smiles, genuinely curious.

“Yeah.” A blush creeps into Liam’s cheeks all of a sudden as he looks at Harry like he only just remembered he was there. “Like, maybe.”

“Aww, Liam’s all shy.” Louis sings, clearly teasing. “He has no problem rambling on to us about his ideas the second they pop into his head, but when big shot Harry’s around…”

Liam straightens his back and shakes his head at Louis, though his blush still remains.

“It’s… It’s just…” He gives up on trying to form words, instead settling on throwing his empty cup at Louis. “Oh shut up, Lou. It’s hard, okay, we’re amateur song writers and Harry’s like, an award winner.”

Harry feels himself blushing now. It’s the first time any of them have mentioned Harry’s success or celebrity since he arrived, and now that it’s happened Harry can say he definitely doesn’t like it.

It’s not that Harry’s ashamed of his success, but the One Direction lads seem so… normal. And grounded. Unlike any other kind of musician Harry has ever met (except maybe Ed), and Harry was very much starting to enjoy feeling less like Harry Styles the celebrity and more like Harold the gangly idiot.

“Don’t feel like that, Liam.” Harry says, wiping his greasy hands on a clean napkin. “What’ve you got for us?”

Liam sighs, he too brushing off his hands.

“It’s just a few lines…”

“Sing it!” Louis demands, slapping his hands on his own thighs. “Sing it!!”

“Sing for us, Liam!” Niall joins in, taking a sip of his soda. 

“Alright, shhh, calm down.” Liam laughs. The boys do so almost immediately, so Liam clears his throat.

“There’s a lightning in your eyes I can’t deny,” Liam sings. “Then there’s me inside a sinking boat, running out of time. Without you, I’ll never make it out alive, but I know we’ll be alright.”

Liam has a killer voice, that’s for sure. Considering he’s done no warming up and has had a few beers, Harry’s almost envious of him. It sounds more folksy and indie than the bubblegum pop he’s used to hearing Liam sing, but it suits him in a way Harry can’t really describe. The lyrics are great too, but the melody could do with a little bit of tweaking, if he’s being honest.

But overall, if that’s what the album’s going to sound like, Harry can’t fucking wait to hear the rest.

“Bravo, Daddy!” Louis calls as he, Niall and Harry start clapping loudly and obnoxiously. Well, Niall and Louis are clapping obnoxiously - Harry’s being genuine. “Excellent work!”

Liam rolls his eyes, picking another piece of pizza from the box.

“Seriously though Liam, it a great start.” Niall comments once the clapping is stopped. He takes another big bite of pizza - this time it’s meat lovers. Harry’s not entirely sure that he even knows or cares what flavours he’s eating at this point. 

“Yeah, I think you should definitely keep going with it.” Harry assures him, which Liam seems to appreciate, given the way he lights up like a puppy that’s just been told it’s going for a walk.

“Thanks Harry.” He gushes with a big grin. “That means a lot, really.”

It’s not hard to notice when Louis is quiet, especially when Harry spends 90% of his time looking at him. When Harry looks over at him this time, he notices Louis’ mouth is twitching and his eyes are slightly squinted. He’s not staring at anything in particular, but rather looking off into the distance, like he’s trying to concentrate or think really hard about something, and Harry swears he can hear soft, melodic humming.

“I was thinking about going on with that sort of, like, carefree vibe. Like things may suck sometimes but we’ll be fine in the end because we have each other, kind of thing.” Liam says once he’s swallowed his first mouthful of pizza. Harry and Niall nod enthusiastically in response, and Harry’s about to make a comment about the melody when he’s interrupted by Louis.

“There’s a future in my life I can’t foresee,” Louis sings, to the same tune Liam was just singing. His voice is sweet and soft and Harry never wants to hear another. “Unless of course I stay on this course and keep you near to me.”

Harry’s eyebrows shoot up, and he’s unable to stop himself from gaping a little because _holy shit_. 

“Did you just come up with that like, just then?” Harry asks, dumbfounded. Louis nods. “That’s incredible.”

“That’s perfect.” Liam chimes in, nodding excitedly like a bobble head toy. “That’s exactly the sort of thing I was thinking, like the importance of having someone to ground you and keep you happy even when things are rough.”

“Like an anchor.” Harry adds, voice quieter than it was before, almost like he’s scared to say it out loud. Maybe he is, a little. He gives Louis a reassuringly smile, and it lights him up inside when Louis returns it, genuine and soft and appreciative. 

“Louis, that was sick.” Niall reaches in front of Harry to high five Louis, who’s now smiling at everyone abashedly.

“For someone who’s not very inspired lately, you just did a fucking great job of coming up with something.” Harry notes, finding himself looking into Louis’ eyes again.

Louis swallows, nodding feebly.

“I dunno,” he replies, biting his lip and looking down at his pizza. “Guess I’m starting to feel a little more inspired.”

Harry doesn’t want to be that idiot that looks too much into everything his crush says and does, but he’s pretty sure Louis gives him a special, warm smile when the other two aren’t looking. The kind that suggests that maybe Harry is helping more than he thinks.

 

 

/ / /

 

 

Harry’s not entirely sure what clubbing has to do with songwriting, but then again, Harry’s never been one to say no to a good party. Or Liam’s puppy dog eyes, apparently. 

It’s 1am on a Friday night/Saturday morning, and after two hours of Chinese food, massive consumption of liquor, and trying to come up with an album title, they’ve ended up at a place called Funky Buddha that Liam swears is the best club ever. The music’s really loud, there’s people everywhere, sweaty and drunk and barely clothed, and Louis is still pissed that he got asked for ID and Harry didn’t, but after one look at the awestruck and ecstatic look on drunk Niall’s face, Harry can’t help but smile.

“Who wants a drink?” Harry asks, voice strained to be heard over the music.

“Jagerbombs!” Liam shouts gleefully, looking back and forward between Zayn and Niall expectantly. Niall shakes his head with terrified eyes (the kind that have seen some shit caused by Jagerbombs) and mouths “Rum and coke”. 

“So jagerbombs for Zayn and Liam, a rum and coke for Niall, and nothing for Louis because he’s a stubborn little shit who has to buy his own drinks.” Harry points at Louis with a mischievous grin, spinning on his heel and going to the bar (via the toilets because he’s never been here before and doesn’t actually know where the bar is). He doesn’t even wait to see Louis’ reaction before he walks off. He’s totally playing it cool and it’s totally working.

(Really it’s more likely that Louis doesn’t realise that Harry is playing _anything_ because he’s straight and has shown no interest in Harry, but Harry has had far too many drinks to think pessimistically right now.)

Harry does have his moments where he doesn’t like being famous and constantly being recognised, but being served after about 30 seconds of waiting and having three people offer to help him carry his drinks is not one of those moments. 

He ends up getting two jagerbombs, one each for Liam and Zayn, two vodka lime and sodas to chase them, Niall’s rum and coke and two gin and tonics, one for himself and one for Louis, because flirting aside, Harry isn’t a dickhead. And if the genuine, grateful smile Louis gives him when his is handed to him is anything to go by, he isn’t either.

Not that Harry didn’t already know that. 

Harry’s been clubbing countless times in his life, and in various countries, but this is an entirely new and wonderful experience. He usually sits in the VIP section, drinking cocktails and doing shots until it’s 3am and he’s drunk and needs to be escorted to a car service, but while Harry most definitely thinks of the One Direction boys as Very Important People, he also knows they won’t be setting foot near the VIP section tonight, even if they thought they’d get in.

Apparently Liam is big on dancing at clubs, and in a turn of events that is surprising to Harry but totally shouldn’t be, Zayn is big on dancing with Liam. Niall looks as though he’s down to follow the party and the boys wherever they may take him, and Louis isn’t going to let Zayn bob around awkwardly like a buoy in the ocean alone, so they all end up on the dance floor within minutes, drinks sloshing all over each other and the strangers surrounding them, Harry’s YSL boots occasionally getting stuck to the floor under them. He would be mad, but the moment is much more important than his belongings, and honestly he’s got like seven other pairs in his closet at home so it doesn’t matter that much anyway.

Harry’s never been a big dancer; in fact he’s positively awful at it, but it definitely comforts him that apparently so are Niall, Louis and Zayn. Liam is the only one of the five of them that looks like he’s been to a club before, dancing around and moving his hips and singing along to the remixed music with a huge grin on his face that is only matched by Niall’s. Niall, who isn’t so much dancing as he is jumping around aimlessly, but is having the time of his life nonetheless.

But it’s not Niall or Liam Harry is paying attention to. It’s Louis, who Harry is definitely and not exactly subtly glancing at out of the corner of his eye every six seconds.

Louis is wearing a black scoop neck t-shirt that shows off tanned skin and slightly faded tattoos and sharp collarbones that Harry wants to suck at. He really would like to blame the alcohol for where his mind is right now, but in reality Harry would be thinking the exact same thing if he was sober - just with a lot more clarity. Which would actually be kind of nice.

Harry can’t help himself. He leans in to Louis, who’s in between Harry and Zayn, so close he almost presses his lips to his ear lobe.

“You don’t look like you’re having much fun.” Harry points out. It’s didn’t need saying, but Harry needs to be close to Louis, needs to have his attention on him and only him. There’s a good two hundred other people at Funky Buddha right now, but Louis is the only one Harry’s thinking about and damn it, he wants Louis to be in the same boat. 

“I’m not much of a dancer” is what Louis says back, and the tense and uneasy smile he gives Harry reinforces his statement tenfold. Harry doesn’t like that smile. Harry wants to see Louis’ laugh lines and his crinkly eyes and his perfect white teeth. Harry also wants to be pressed up against Louis in a totally dirty way, and fortunately for Harry, he’s currently living in a world one only gets to when they’re fifteen standard drinks down, a world where those two ideas coincide with each other.

So that’s why Harry takes a side step until he’s standing directly in front of Louis, his calves pressed against Louis’ shins, and bends down until his hands are touching his toes and his arse is flush against Louis’ crotch. And then he starts twerking.

Well, to be honest, Harry’s never really known how to twerk. He’s not entirely sure if he’s supposed to move his ass up and down or in circles so he lands somewhere in the middle, and he’s sure he looks completely stupid but even over the throbbing bass of the club music and the people yelling conversations around them, Harry can hear Louis laughing. He can also hear Niall, Zayn and Liam laughing, but, _Louis_.

Also Louis’ dick is pressed against Harry’s arse. This is the best night ever.

Whether or not he embarrassed himself in his endeavours is not even worth Harry’s consideration, because when he’s back to being right side up and dancing like a normal person (to the best of his ability), he can tell immediately that Louis has sufficiently loosened up. His smile is small but it’s definitely present, and he’s pointing his hands around and shuffling back and forward and it’s the best dance moves Harry’s ever seen.

Harry needs to stop drinking. 

But clouding Harry’s mind and taking up all capacity that was previously occupied by _Louis Louis Louis_ is now, as he glances around them, the realisation that several of the young women in the club have noticed Harry is here and started making eyes at him. It’s nothing new and it’s nothing that normally bothers Harry all that much, and usually his friends love it, but when things like this happen around the 1D boys, Harry just feels silly and embarrassed.  

One of the women, a short, rather pretty brunette, elbows her way past a few of her friends in a totally not-subtle attempt to get closer to Harry and the boys. Harry has never been one to be impolite, never ever ever, so he smiles at her quickly and gives an awkward wave, but moves himself ever-so slightly so he’s shielded by Niall from any photos she may take of him or lingering looks she may give him.

But all Harry’s subtlety and crafty manoeuvring are apparently futile because— oh. _Oh_. She’s not looking at Harry.

She’s looking at Louis. And Harry isn’t the only one who’s noticed.

“Lou! 3 o’clock!” Liam shouts in Louis’ ear, pushing himself between Louis and Harry. The girl is actually at 11 o’clock for Louis, but that’s neither here nor there. “She’s definitely checking you out.”

Harry gets halfway through thinking he hates Liam before he regrets the harshness of the statement and mentally chastises himself. But still. Fucking Liam. 

Louis, thankfully, swats Liam away with his free hand like he’s a buzzing housefly, grip tightening on his drink.

“Fuck off Liam!” Harry hears him reply. Harry’s grinning now, simply gleeful at the idea of not having to watch Louis flirt with some girl who’s far too attractive for Harry to compete with. Because yes, this is a competition, between Harry and all the females in Britain. And it’s a competition Harry intends to win.

“You won’t get in trouble, no one’s gonna tell management!” Liam insists, dragging on Louis’ shirt. Louis leans away from him, but Liam chases him, like his mouth and Louis’ ear are magnetised. 

It’s really loud so Harry’s not entirely sure what’s happening, but he thinks Louis just told Liam to go fuck a meat grinder. Which is… well, totally unsurprising, to be honest. 

“Heeeeey.” Harry whines, making grabby hands until he manages to get a grip on Louis’ arm. “Leave Louis alone.”

Louis lets himself be pulled over to Harry, so fuck it, Harry takes full advantage of the moment and loosely wraps his arms around Louis’ neck, his drink brushing against Louis’ face and leaving a trail of condensation. Harry wants to lick it off, but this is about all the physical contact he can handle for now without spontaneously combusting and/or giving himself an awkward boner.

“My hero.” Louis cranes his neck in what looks to be a terrible uncomfortable way to give Harry a big smile, squeezing his eyes shut and baring his teeth. It’s the most adorable thing ever. Even more adorable than puppies and kittens wearing bowties - and that’s one of Harry’s greatest weaknesses. And yeah, okay, maybe Louis is a little (a lot) drunk right now, but he’s still looking at Harry in a way that is acutely representative of the way Louis makes Harry feel on the inside. Pure happiness.

The best part is, Louis doesn’t remove himself, doesn’t fight against it. They just move to the music together like that, Harry’s arms around Louis and Louis’ arms wrapped around Harry’s. Louis has spilled what was left of his drink onto the floor and potentially Harry’s shoes (Harry has to physically fight back a wince) just so he can hold on to Harry’s arm. It’s sort of the most romantic thing in the world right now, Harry thinks. There’s not many opportunities for romance to blossom in a nightclub, but this is definitely one of them. Sacrificing a drink one didn’t actually pay for to reciprocate affection from a friend one may or may not be attracted to. Shakespeare would be proud.

Romance is thrown out the window now, however, because a remix of _Hot In Here_ just came on and Harry just _can’t_ stay still. He rocks his hips forward, just the slightest bit, but with the way his pants are tightening over his bulge thanks to the overwhelming combination of alcohol and Louis being this close, it’s definitely not subtle. Louis freezes at the contact, but Harry catches the way he bites his lip and yeah, maybe it’s the alcohol talking but that looks a lot more like arousal than it does awkwardness. 

Louis Tomlinson is getting more homosexual by the minute. Harry thinks this may be his greatest accomplishment to date. 

“Getting frisky back there, Curly?”

“You know it.” Harry grins back, resisting every temptation to lean forward and bite gently on Louis’ earlobe. _Ease in, Styles_.

“Oh, so you’ll flirt with Harry but not that hot girl over there!” Liam is laughing, he’s smiling, and his hand is on Louis’ shoulder in a totally affectionate and non-threatening way, but Louis still looks at him like he’s just spat in his face. Which, okay. That hurts.

Louis immediately drops his grip on Harry, moving awkwardly amongst Harry’s arms until he’s completely untangled and standing in the the middle of the group with a look on his face that Harry can hardly describe. The only word that’s are coming to him in his current intoxicated state is _shame_.

Harry really wants to escape this moment.

“More drinks!” He announces before Louis can respond to Liam, snatching the empty glasses from everyone’s hands one by one. He avoids looking at anything above Louis’ collarbones as he does so, because Harry isn’t a masochist and he definitely doesn’t enjoy the feeling he’s getting from seeing the look Louis has on his face right now.

When he gets over to the bar, Harry hides his face and looks at the floor. He doesn’t want to cut the line this time - not only because it’s quite rude, but also because he’s sort of desperate for an excuse to stay away from the boys for a few extra minutes. He needs the burning embarrassment of what just happened to die away before he can even be anywhere near Louis and Liam again. 

Or maybe just replace it with another burning feeling.

“Two vodka lime and sodas, two gin and tonics, a rum and coke and two shots of…” Harry glances at the bottles of spirits behind the bartender, but honestly he’s hardly even looking at them. “anything.”

The bartender nods and quickly begins making the drinks, and Harry thinks he must be a fan because he gives him all the drinks he ordered plus three pretty looking orange coloured shots and only charges him $35. 

Harry slams the shots down one by one, and despite the familiar and awful burn in his throat and retch in his stomach, they actually taste quite nice. He feels better about Louis already.

He mouths “thank you” to the bartender and does a little thankful bow, and then suddenly Niall is at his side.

“Hey mate, thought I’d give you a hand.” Niall picks up his own drink as well as Zayn and Liam’s, balancing them together with his skinny hands, and Harry takes his own and Louis’. Thank god for Niall, really, because Harry was sort of contemplating just staying at the bar and drinking everyone’s drinks all by himself. 

They weave through the masses of people back to the same patch of dance floor they had occupied before Harry left, except the boys aren’t there anymore.

Oh no, there they are. Zayn and Liam are apparently arguing about something, but they’re pressed up so close to each other it looks more like dry humping, and Louis actually is participating in dry humping.

The girl from earlier is grinding on Louis, pressing her ass against Louis’ crotch in a definitely deliberate way. Harry can’t help it, he’s staring at them and his stomach is twisting into knots and he regrets taking those three shots now because he’s pretty sure he’s about to throw them all up. 

_Louis is straight, you idiot_. Harry’s brain screams at itself. _You knew this._

Harry breaks his eyes away from their bodies long enough to look at Louis’ face, to see if the shame from before is still present or if that was just exclusive to Harry-related grinding, and fuck, Louis is looking right back at him. 

They hold each other’s gaze for a long while, almost like Louis is trying to communicate something to Harry, but Harry is far too drunk and far too flustered by the whole situation to read what it is before Louis drops his gaze. He seems to hesitate, looking down at the girl and her ass like he’s not sure how to proceed, and then he’s reaching down and he’s putting his hands on her sides and he’s grinding back and Harry wants to throw these drinks at someone. 

His body is working independently from his brain at this point, however (which is probably a good thing for everyone’s safety and Harry’s public image), and he finds himself marching over to Louis and his dancing partner. He holds out Louis’ drink, staring him dead in the face as he does so, training himself not to express any of the multitude of feelings swimming around inside him. Louis takes the drink from him without looking up from the girl, just takes the fucking drink and mutters “thanks” in a way that would be totally missed by Harry had he not been looking directly at Louis’ mouth. Fuck Louis’ mouth, honestly. Harry doesn’t even want to kiss it anymore.

Except he does, he really really does and he wishes that was him that Louis was touching like that. But it’s not, so Harry drinks his entire drink in two mouthfuls, not even wincing this time at the way it lingers uncomfortably in his throat. 

Zayn and Liam are still in a world of their own at this point, and Niall is just dancing around obliviously like this sort of thing happens all the time, so Harry grabs him by the elbow (gently, of course, as one should treat Niall Horan) and drags him through a throng of people to a different part of the dance floor.

“Where’re we goin’?” Niall shouts, loud enough for Harry to hear him.

“Somewhere else.” Harry answers, and Niall doesn’t push it any further, bless him.

The new crowd of people surrounding them is more of the same, dancing couples and horny guys and pretty girls and Harry forces himself to smile. If he smiles, he can trick himself into believing that he’s having fun.

But his mind wanders back to Louis. He was sure Louis had been flirting back with him, that Louis was enjoying Harry’s company as much as Harry was enjoying his, but now Louis is dancing and flirting with a girl like he has a point to prove. Like he knows Harry is attracted to him and wants him to get the hint.

Oh god, _he knows_. He totally knows Harry likes him. Working with him is going to be so fucking awkward now.

Niall taps him on the shoulder, breaking his train of thought like the good friend he is. He doesn’t say anything, just nods wordlessly to something over Harry’s shoulder.

A much better wingman than Liam, Harry thinks as he takes a long glance at the boy he finds staring back at him. He’s tall, dark haired and definitely very handsome. The kind Harry would have been climbing like a tree before he met Louis. 

But Louis has nothing to do with this, not anymore. He’s with a girl and Harry has a point of his own to prove, to himself and to Louis. He can push his feelings aside. It’s totally not a big deal.

Plus this guy is actually really fucking good looking. Harry’s never been one to waste an opportunity. 

“Harry.” He says, leaning in closer to the other boy.

“Dan.” The boy says back, smirking at Harry. 

They don’t need to make further conversation, and honestly trying to would be futile anyway with the volume of the music and the people and the ringing in Harry’s ears. 

Harry lets himself be pulled closer by Dan, a hand gripping onto his waist, and then Dan’s lips are on his. The kiss is rough and full of tongue and tastes like tequila sunrise (which is actually kind of nice), but it’s a distraction. It silences Harry’s brain, muting any and all thoughts about— who? Some tattooed kid that sings or something. Harry totally isn’t thinking about him right now.

Harry’s not sure how long they kiss for, but it’s long enough for him to start feeling bad for Niall, so he separates himself from Dan, putting some space in between them and resting his hand on Dan’s chest.

“Hold that thought.” He smiles cheekily.

He turns around to face Niall again, to apologise for abandoning him and potentially making him feel awkward, but Niall’s already disappearing through the crowd. He catches Harry’s eye and makes a T with his hands, mouthing “toilet” as he does. Harry nods, understanding, and turns back to Dan.

“I’m gonna go with him, I don’t want to lose him.” Harry explains. Dan pulls a sad face, and it’s adorable and irresistible so Harry rolls his eyes dramatically.

“Fiiiine, you can come.” He takes Dan by the hand, dragging him through the crowd of dancing people until they reach the male toilets. Dan’s pressing himself against Harry’s bum as they enter, and Harry can’t help but giggle. He hasn’t done this sort of thing in a while, not since the last time he went to LA. 

It’s quiet in the toilets, the music just a distant bass sound, but Harry’s ears are still ringing. He can’t see Niall anywhere, thinks he must be in a cubicle, and there’s no one else in the bathroom, so Dan backs him into a corner and starts sucking at a spot on Harry’s neck. Harry gasps at the feeling, feels so good, like being on a cloud and, okay, Harry’s still really fucking drunk. 

“Up here. Kiss me.” Harry mumbles, dragging Dan by the hair up to meet his lips. It’s a typical drunken club kiss, messy with tongues going everywhere and hands in hair but Harry is beyond caring at this point.

The door to the toilets swings open loudly, bashing against the tiled wall behind it. Harry’s eyes open wide, curious, and he finds himself staring back at Zayn, Liam and Louis. Of course.

“Oh, Harry!” Liam smirks. “There you are.”

Louis is staring at Harry. Harry is staring back.

“Liam, is that you?” Niall calls from one of the cubicles. “Liam! I miss you!” 

Dan keeps trying to kiss Harry, oblivious, so Harry pulls away and taps him on the chest, eyes not breaking from Louis’. 

“What about me, Niall, don’t you miss me too?”

“Yes, Zayn, of course I miss you! D’ya wanna come hold my dick for me?”

“No thanks.”

Dan takes a quick glance at the other boys then looks expectantly back at Harry.

“I’ll find you later.” Harry lies with a smile worthy of an Academy Award. Dan accepts this, believes it as he returns Harry’s smile with a bite of his lip and pushes his way past Louis and Zayn back into the club. Liam is standing in the cubicle next to Niall’s peering over the top of the stall at him. 

“Look at you!” Zayn coos. He closes the gap between himself and Harry and pinches his cheeks affectionately. Harry barely feels it. “Gettin’ in with boys in clubs.”

“Didn’t know you had it in you, to be honest.” Liam chimes in, almost slipping off the toilet he’s standing on. 

Harry just makes a show of rolling his eyes and, once Niall has come out of his cubicle (and definitely didn’t wash his hands), ushers them out of the toilets and back to the dance floor.

Harry’s feeling pretty pleased with himself, he thinks as he bops around to some dubstep remix. He hadn’t exactly intended to be caught kissing Dan by the boys, but it had ended up working quite well in his plan. Maybe now Louis will forget Harry is keen on him, or at least think that it’s not serious enough to cause awkwardness between them. 

Louis himself looks pretty despondent, and Harry can tell he’s ready to go home. He’s back to how he was when they first got on the dance floor, tight-lipped smile and awkward little dance moves. His feet are moving back and forward on the floor, no real energy in any of his movements. It’s not like the Louis Harry’s used to at all.

Harry sighs. This isn’t a game. This isn’t a one-up competition between himself and Louis. Harry just really really likes Louis. That’s all this is. He just wishes it was that simple. 

The energy of the group is lifted significantly when Sandstorm by Darude comes on, which is apparently Niall and Liam’s favourite song to dance to, because even in their subdued states Louis, Harry and Zayn can’t help but jump around with them, wide grins stretching across all five of their faces as they bump into strangers and step on each other’s feet and spill what’s left of their drinks down their own shirts. Harry’s heart is pounding, thumping in his ear as he runs out of breath, but he doesn’t stop dancing. He wants every moment to feel like this - carefree, happy, included.

But the song ends, and all five of them are struggling to get their breath back, so Liam just claps a hand on Louis’ shoulder and nods to the door. Louis nods back gratefully, and Harry follows behind as they all file through the crowd towards the exit, making a chain by holding onto each other’s t-shirts so that no-one gets lost.

They pile into a taxi, Louis and Zayn sitting up the back and Harry, Liam and Niall in the middle, everyone still yelling over the ringing of their ears even though the loud music of the club is long gone. Niall’s laughing and Zayn is singing to Louis and Liam’s stuck in a giggle fit and Harry feels like his face is about to split in half from smiling so much.

“Best night ever.” He proclaims, draping an arm around Niall’s shoulder. 

“It was alright.” Zayn replies from the back seat, not quite yelling as much as the rest of them.

“The best is yet to come, young Styles.” Niall grins, slapping a hand on Harry’s knee. 

 

 

/ / /

 

 

The best Niall was referring to, however, definitely does not come the next morning.

Harry wakes to the sound of retching and dry heaving, and it takes a long painful moment for him to realise he’s laying in Zayn and Niall’s bathtub. And Liam is throwing up in the toilet next to his head. 

“Y’alright, Liam?” Harry mumbles sleepily, not daring to move even the slightest inch. He can already feel his insides quivering and head throbbing and he hasn’t even opened his eyes yet. The only reason he knows it’s Liam is the currently-nauseating smell of cologne left over from last night. 

“I’m fine.” Liam replies. His voice is shaky and so sad and Harry has to stifle a grin. Not because he doesn’t want to show joy at Liam’s pain, but because he can’t move his face. It hurts too much.

“I’m not.” Harry decides.

“Morning lads!” 

Harry groans, and if he had any sort of desire to move, he would honestly throw something at Zayn right now.

“Zayn, leave me to die.” Harry mutters, perfectly timed with Liam’s latest up-chuck.

“Wow.” Zayn responds. He sounds way too chipper in comparison to how Harry’s feeling. “Come on, sad sacks. We’re going to get breakfast.”

Harry wants to say that he’s staying here in this bath and never leaving again, but honestly, a full English breakfast sounds so good right now it’s making his mouth water. Except he’s really dehydrated. So. 

Harry carefully opens his eyes, just in time to catch Liam throwing up ( _lovely_ ). He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand clumsily, earning a half-grossed out half-sympathetic look from Harry, and then both boys are turning to look at Zayn, who’s standing in the doorway looking fresh as a fucking daisy. Of course.

“Come on. I know you want to.” Zayn sings, smiling teasingly at them both.

“Hurry up, ya fuckers!” Niall yells from somewhere else in the house, and Harry finds himself unable to stop from laughing. Oh, it hurts. 

“Niall’s about to eat my arm if we don’t hurry up.” Louis announces, having suddenly appeared next to Zayn in the doorway. It’s very comforting that Louis looks no better than Harry feels. His eyes are only half-open, with massive bags beneath them, and he’s wearing a purple hoodie with grey track pants and a striped t-shirt that looks like it hasn’t fitted him for years. He looks like he’s just been reanimated after several years of death.

Looking at him still makes Harry’s insides feel like they’re glowing, though.

“I’m down. I actually feel a lot better.” Liam announces, rubbing his stomach as an afterthought.

“Fiiiiiine.” Harry rolls his eyes dramatically. “But only if someone lifts me out of the bath.”

The other three argue amongst themselves while Harry makes grabby hands at them, and honestly, he’s always been the kind of person to be completely comfortable around people as soon as he meets them, but he knows that’s not what this is. 

The reason Harry feels comfortable around these boys (comfortable enough to make one of them lift his half-naked and undoubtedly stinky body from a bathtub) is because _they_ make _him_ feel comfortable. This isn’t Harry’s doing, assimilating himself into a group environment flawlessly as he always does - this is all them, loving Harry and accepting him like those stories you see on the news of the dogs raising a cat as their own. 

It’s ultimately Louis that draws the short straw, apparently, and Harry can’t say he’s mad about the view he gets of Louis’ ass as Louis carries him over his shoulder into the living room, struggling every inch of the way.

They opt to drive to the breakfast venue of choice, with Zayn driving Liam in his car and Niall driving Louis and Harry in Liam’s car. Harry doesn’t entirely trust Niall’s driving abilities, but to be honest, he and Zayn seem to be the only one’s even close to sober enough to drive right now.

Harry has no idea what the place is called or where exactly it is - all he knows is they apparently serve incredibly greasy breakfasts, and it takes them exactly two Michael Buble tracks (with Niall singing along enthusiastically and god, far too loudly) too get there.

Harry drops into one of the chairs on the edge of the table, with Louis sitting himself at the head, Liam next to Harry and Zayn and Niall across from them. Louis’ shoe kicks softly against Harry’s under the table, probably accidentally, but Harry doesn’t bother to react. A true indicator of how rubbish Harry is feeling right now. 

“Cheer up, sunshine.” Zayn smirks, leaning across the table to poke at the place where Harry’s dimples usually are.

“I’m okay.” Harry lies. “Just so… dying.”

“Does everyone know what they want? I’m ready to order.” Niall rubs his hands together, glancing around the table for any sort of reaction, but the other boys just wave him off. Harry would take anything at this point, so long as it has bacon on it.

Three full English breakfasts, a fried eggs and bacon and a stack of pancakes later, the mood seems to have lifted at least a little bit. Harry feels much more human now that he’s got something in his stomach, though he can’t promise he’ll keep it down much longer. Louis has some colour in his face again, Liam’s chattering like normal, Niall’s stopped looking at Liam like he’s a human steak, and Zayn is, well, still totally fine, so all in all, a successful breakfast.

“But last night was fun though, right?” Liam pokes Harry in the side as Harry swallows the last of his toast. He has never wanted to hit Liam before, but he definitely does now.

“How are you like this?” Louis snaps, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt on over his head and dragging it down so it covers his eyes. “Weren’t you practically on your deathbed this morning?”

“I’m actually feeling really good now.” Liam nods proudly.

“That’s because every last drop of alcohol you drank last night is sitting at the bottom of Zayn and Niall’s toilet.” Louis quips, dropping his head onto his arms, which are folded on the table in front of him.

“Hey, I flushed!” Liam defends himself, hands raised, earning him a scowl from Louis. Liam’s pout vanishes instantly when Zayn places a reassuring hand on his shoulder and whispers something that sounds like ‘just ignore him, you know how he gets’. 

“My mouth still tastes like something crawled in there to die.” Louis mutters grumpily. 

“Maybe it was that girl you hooked up with.” Niall waggles his eyebrows suggestively at Louis, eliciting a giggle from Zayn and Liam and, well, if Harry wasn’t ready to throw up before, he certainly is now.

“We didn’t hook up.” Louis snaps, glaring at Niall. “She just danced with me for a bit. I didn’t even kiss her.”

The rest of the boys seem to know Louis well enough to know not to push the issue, because they fall into silence after that, though even if they didn’t, Harry wouldn’t hear much of what was being said. 

He didn’t kiss that girl. Louis had a perfectly attractive, willing and ready female grinding against him like he was a stripper pole, and he didn’t kiss her. 

Harry bites back a full, pleased grin, for the first time since he woke up this morning. Louis had an opportunity to kiss someone, and he didn’t. The image of their writhing bodies has instantly vanished from Harry’s mind, and now, no longer plagued by painful and jealous thoughts of Louis being with someone else, Harry feels fine. Cheerful, even. Somehow, nothing else seems more important than that right now.

Liam, having apparently remembered that the purpose of their meetings with Harry is to create an album, not get drunk and kiss strangers, brings up the fact that they still haven’t thought of an album title. Niall groans, dropping his head on to the table with a loud thud, but Harry knows he’s just being dramatic. 

The album title is the simplest part. It’s difficult, attempting to encapsulate everything this album means (and will mean by the time it’s completed) into a few words, but it’s actually one of the things Harry enjoys the most about the production process - particularly because, unlike these boys, Harry never got to pick a band name. He was keen on a stage name, but his management shut that idea down pretty quickly after Harry suggested Foxy Diamond.

Niall suddenly declares over the clamouring of the other four that they will talk about it more when they get home, because he’s apparently two minutes away from vomiting what he just ate all over his leftovers. Which everyone agrees they could live without. 

Apparently hangovers don’t do much for Harry’s perception and awareness of his surroundings, because throughout the whole half hour they were inside, he didn’t notice the crowd of people start to form around the entrance.

The second Liam pushes open the front door onto the street, it hits them like a brick wall coming down and crushing all of them. 

Camera flashes, arms grabbing at them, people shoving, screaming. Harry takes a deep breath, steadying himself and putting on a brave smile as he faces the mob of people.

“What the fuck is happening?” Louis calls from somewhere behind Harry.

“Harry! Harry over here!”

People are aiming iPhones and cameras in Harry’s face, tugging on his sleeves and his arms and his jacket and anything they can get a hold of to get him in their photo. 

“Oh my god it’s Harry Styles!”

“Harry, I love you!” 

“I think we’re being mobbed.” Harry hears Zayn reply, voice shaky.

A young girl is pulling rather aggressively at Harry’s arm, causing him to stumble and knock into a few other people.

“Sorry.” He mumbles, but it’s drowned out by Louis yelling “Get the fuck off him!”

Louis appears at Harry’s side now, swatting at the girls defensively as they reach for Harry and pull at him from every angle.

“Fuck off!” Louis says through gritted teeth, flashes going off all around them. “Harry, you alright?”

Harry nods, shocked at Louis’ sudden protectiveness. Louis’ arm snakes around Harry’s waist, gripping onto him hard, like he’s afraid Harry could be pulled away at any moment - which, to be fair, he probably could. 

A particularly aggressive girl stumbles into Harry, throwing her arms around him and cutting off Louis’ grip in the process. She holds up her camera in front of Harry’s face, taking a photo he surely wasn’t ready for, before she’s replaced by another girl with another camera.  

Harry feels someone push him again, stumbles a little and looks behind him, searching for a familiar face. He can’t see Zayn and Louis anymore, and panic begins to set in. Fuck.

“Niall?!” Liam yells, whipping his head around with wide and panicked eyes. He’s still only a few feet in front of Harry, separated from him by a few crying teenage girls who are now trying to hold Harry’s hand. “Where’s Niall?!”

“Niall?” Harry calls, he too looking around for any sign of a blonde head of hair.

“Harry!” Harry recognises true fear in Liam’s big eyes, and Harry feels sick. Not because of the hangover anymore, but because he knows there is no way these boys know how to handle this. One Direction are famous, yes, but Harry’s not naive - he knows it’s totally uncommon and honestly, fucked up, that he gets mobbed like this. It doesn’t happen to many people, and he knows first hand how fucking scary it is the first time it happens.

“Harry!” Liam repeats, pushing backwards through the sea of people to get closer to Harry. He clings to Harry’s arm, digging his fingers in hard enough to leave a bruise, but Harry doesn’t care. “Niall’s claustrophobic.”

The words hit Harry hard, like a slap to the face, and immediately he springs to action, despite the nauseous feeling spreading throughout his whole body.

He grabs onto Liam’s hand, holding it tight as he weaves them through the small sea of people. Harry wouldn’t be able to live with himself if Niall wasn’t okay. He wouldn’t even blame the boys if none of them wanted to speak to him after this, but that’s a thought than can wait until later. Right now, he just needs to find Niall.

“Harry! Can you take a picture with me? Harry!!”

“Zayn!” Harry and Liam look at each other with equally wide eyes and startled expressions. It’s Niall’s voice, unmistakably. “Guys!”

“Niall!” 

Harry pushes through the crowd with more urgency now, his sweaty hand slipping in Liam’s grip, feeling the crowd close in on them even more. 

“Keep your head down.” Harry advises Liam, giving his hand an extra squeeze of reassurance. Liam just nods mutely in response, doing as he’s told and ducking his head as they fight their way through, Harry leading the way.

“Harry, take a selfie with me!”

“Harry I love you!!”

“Harry, this way! Over here!”

It feels like they’re moving at a snails pace, and with the way people are grabbing and pulling at them, standing in front of them and crowding them, they probably are. The mass of people only seems to be getting bigger. 

“Liam!” Niall calls.

“Niall!” Liam’s voice cracks, and Harry can feel his hand get even sweatier. They push past a particularly stubborn group of girls, and like pulling back the drapes to see the morning sun, there’s Niall. Being pulled at and pushed and shoved and visibly totally freaking out.

Harry and Liam force themselves through the last few people until they’re with Niall, breaking their grip on each other to stand on either side of him. Harry wraps an arm around Niall’s shoulder and Liam does the same around his waist.

“You alright, man?” Liam asks. Niall shakes his head only the tiniest bit, eyes fixed on the ground and chest heaving as he breathes heavily and quickly. The fans have taken Harry’s sudden stillness as an opportunity to take photos, some of them even leaning in to take a selfie with him while Niall is having a full blown panic attack beside him. This whole situation is so fucked.

“We’ve gotta get out of here.” Harry notes, craning his neck in an attempt to see over the people. 

“The car’s this way.” Liam nods his head to his left, dragging Niall and Harry in that same direction.

It takes them a further five minutes to get to their cars - five minutes of more squealing and screaming and Niall hyperventilating and Harry feeling so sick with worry that he might just pass out, but eventually, they make it. Liam gets in the drivers seat, and Harry forces himself in the back seat after Niall.

Fans are banging on the car window now, but despite that and the terrified look in his eyes, Niall’s stopped hyperventilating, so Harry takes a deep breath himself and leans back in his seat.

“Nialler, how you doing buddy?” Liam asks as he pulls out of the lot slowly, careful not to run over any of the fans. The movement of the car has deterred some of them, but not others.

“‘M okay.” Niall manages to get out, hands gripped hard on his own knees, knuckles white. He’s not okay. 

“Harry?”

“I’m fine.” Harry almost chokes on his words, feeling himself being dragged down from the inside out at the guilt he’s feeling. This is all his fault. 

“Can you call Zayn and Louis, see if they made it to their car?” 

Harry nods silently, pulling out his phone from his pocket with a shaky hand. A wave of relief washes over him when he sees a text message from Louis.

_we’re in the car, headed home. please text when you guys are safe_

Harry taps out a quick _in the car now. im so sorry xx_ and presses send, announcing to Liam, “They’re fine. Got to their car before we did.”

The drive back to Zayn and Niall’s place is mostly silent, the only sound coming from the radio and Liam’s occasional mumblings of “Crazy. Can’t believe it.”. Niall’s breathing has almost returned to normal, but Harry continues rubbing gentle circles on his upper back until they’re up the stairs and walking through the front door of the flat.

Louis and Zayn are already sitting on the couch when they walk in, Zayn with his head in his hands and Louis leaning back on the couch, staring at the coffee table in front of him with a stunned look on his face. Harry’s stomach tightens even further, which he hadn’t thought possible, as he sits on the other couch next to Niall and Liam.

“I can’t believe what just happened.” Liam is still mumbling, mostly to himself. Niall lets out a deep sigh, back to normal breathing now by the sounds of things.

“Harry…” Louis starts, still looking at the coffee table, and yep, here it comes. Harry’s about to get royally reamed out for what just happened, and not in the fun way. “Are you okay?”

“Am I…” Harry blinks at Louis, once, twice, then just stares. Louis looks up at him, finally, their eyes meeting. Harry searches them for any sign of rage or anger but it’s not there. It’s just… concern. “Am I okay?”

“Yeah.” Louis screws up his face a little. “Everyone was pushing and shoving and grabbing at you, it was insane.”

“I’m fine.” Harry says, still staring at Louis like he has no idea what’s going on. Because he doesn’t, really. One of Louis’ best mates had a panic attack not ten minutes ago and here Louis is, asking if _Harry’s_ okay.

And the craziest part about it is Liam and Zayn are looking at Harry the same way Louis is.

“I can’t believe that sort of thing happens to you all the time.” Zayn shakes his head in disbelief, a look of awe on his face. Harry’s frown deepens. How is he not getting told he’s the worst friend in the history of the world right now? I mean, it’s not like Harry has ever wanted Louis to yell at him, but this is so far removed from what Harry expected that it’s almost frightening.

“Yeah, I didn’t even realise how bad it was.” Louis admits, he too shaking his head. “I have no idea how you do it.”

Harry has never really doubted that Louis respects him - Harry’s never given a reason to deserve disrespect, after all - but there’s never been more clear a moment to show it than right now. 

“You just get used to it, I guess.” Harry replies carefully, watching as Louis bites his lip and drops his head even further.

“Niall, what about you? You alright?” Zayn asks.

Niall just nods, taking another deep breath, then looks up to meet Zayn’s eye. It’s the first time he’s looked up from the ground since Liam and Harry found him in the mob. 

“I’m all good.” Niall manages a tiny smile, and Harry wants to slap him and kiss him and tackle him to the couch all at the same time. But he doesn’t, because he’s sure that isn’t a good thing to do to someone who’s just recovered from a panic attack.

“I’m really sorry guys.” Harry manages, glancing quickly from face to face. Because he is, he’s so sorry for dragging them into this mess and chaos that they didn’t ask for that it makes his body ache. Or maybe that’s the hangover still. It’s sort of hard to tell.

“Don’t be sorry, Harry.” Louis scolds him. “That wasn’t your fault. I’ve never wanted to hit a girl before and I’d never actually do it, you know, but I could’ve belted those girls for what they were doing.”

Harry bites back a proud smirk at the reemergence of Louis’ protective streak. Harry had thought it was just a heat-of-the-moment kind of thing, but now that they’re out of the mob and sitting around talking about it, it makes Harry’s heart leap to know that Louis still has the same instinct to protect and defend Harry. Just when he thinks he can’t like Louis any more than he already does, Louis surprises him again. Louis is full of surprises, and Harry is in love with the thought of continually being surprised by him.

“Yeah, and next time we’ll be more prepared.” Liam grins, patting Harry on the back. “We’ll start taking those shield things with us wherever we go or something. Like the police officers use in riots.”

“Or use Liam has a human shield.” Louis offers, gesturing to a now-offended Liam. Harry grins and lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, relieved at the lift in the mood. One of Louis’ greatest skills.

“Hey!” 

“Take one for the team, Liam.” Niall chimes in patting Liam on the knee consolingly. 

“Look at your little chicken arms,” Liam gestures to said arms, which, Harry has to admit, are pretty chickeny. “you’re not gonna be able to out muscle me. I’ll lift you off the ground.”

“Ooh, no, that’s a good idea!” Louis claps gleefully. “We can carry Niall above our heads so he doesn’t have another panic attack! Good thinking, Liam.”

Zayn and Harry start giggling, Liam looking more offended than ever. 

“Have you quite finished, Lou?”

“I haven’t, actually. Just getting started.”

Harry’s never going to have better friends for as long as he lives, and he’s very much okay with that.

 

 

/ / /

 

 

It’s warm. It’s so warm, and everything is fluffy, and Harry never ever wants to move.

Of course, it’s this exact moment that Harry’s bedroom door bursts open, making a loud banging noise as the handle slams against the wall behind it with force.

“Rise and shine, Harold!” Louis’ voice is far too loud, Harry’s ears practically ringing at the sound of it. His vision is blurred, eyes still weary with sleep, but he sees Louis’ figure glide over to Harry’s bed side. “It’s 3pm, I am here, I have, of course, brought tea.”

Harry’s eyes slip shut again. He feels the mattress dip as Louis sits down next to his feet. 

“Time to work.” Harry manages to mumble, his voice still rough and sleepy. He sits himself up, running a hand through his hair but not entirely caring how it looks right now. He’s too sleepy for caring. 

“Two sugars.” Louis smiles, handing Harry a large Starbucks cup. “You have pillow creases on your face.”

“That’s a lovely sentiment, Louis.” Harry responds. He takes a quick, careful sip of the tea. It’s perfect. “Maybe we can put that in the song.”

“Not likely.” Louis stands again, placing his tea on Harry’s nightstand. “I have other ideas. But first, I need to pee. And you need to wake yourself up, you lazy prick.”

Harry laughs at the jab, but it turns into a cough as he tries to clear his throat. He had to get up at 6 this morning so that he would be on time for a photoshoot, and the 20 minutes he’d managed to nap before Louis arrived had seemed like the best thing to ever happen to Harry.

But now Louis’ here, he brought Harry tea, and they get to spend the next couple of hours together, listening to music and writing their own and, more than likely, abandoning all responsibility in favour of watching a movie of Louis’ choice. It wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened now.

It’s been almost three months now since Harry met Louis, but he’s never felt closer to him than he has since in the weeks the mobbing incident. 

Whether it be the way Harry looked after Niall or how he handled the whole situation so calmly or seeing how hard Harry has it some times, whatever reservations Louis seemed to have about Harry have apparently vanished since that day. 

Harry couldn’t be happier about it, if he’s honest. 

Harry wipes his free hand across his face, rubbing roughly at his eyes and scratching near his hairline. He should probably put a shirt on. He and Louis are close now, but not close enough that Harry can be naked around him without it being weird.

The nearest shirt is a loose-hanging black t-shirt, ripped near the collar and probably a size too big. It hangs off Harry’s torso, the bottom of it just covering the waistband of his low hanging sweatpants. 

Louis appears in the doorway, zipping up his zipper in perfect timing for Harry to catch the bright red colour of his underwear. 

“Right, so…” Louis scans his surroundings, gaze lingering on a framed photo of Harry kissing Ed Sheeran on the cheek. “This is your bedroom.”

“Yeah.” Harry replies simply, an element of awkwardness about it as he too looks around the room. He tries to take it in from a different perspective, to imagine what Louis must be thinking as he looks at the space. It’s simple, plain, with barely any personalisation. Nothing offensive or embarrassing, thank god. 

But they’re still standing in the middle of Harry's bedroom. Where he sleeps. And masturbates. And judging by the look on Louis’ face, that’s exactly the thought that just crossed his mind. 

“So… Living room?” Harry asks, eyeing the door. Louis nods eagerly, waiting for Harry to pass him and lead the way. 

Once they get to the kitchen living area, Louis drops himself on the big black couch like he’s been here a thousand times before. He hasn’t - only one or twice before this - but Harry’s not at all surprised by Louis’ tendency to make himself at home everywhere he goes.

Harry sits near the middle, lazily draping an arm across the back of the couch as Louis pulls his laptop out from his backpack. Harry thinks he may be able to touch the ends of Louis’ hair if he reaches his arm out enough. 

“You said you had some ideas.” Harry starts, clearing the last of the sleepiness out of his voice with a small cough. 

“Indeed I do.” Louis replies, gaze fixed on his computer screen as he starts it up. “It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while, but it needs a bit of help. I can’t quite get there, you know?”

Harry nods. He does know. He’s written many songs in his time, though he almost always has the help of a professional writer. Louis is taking on a lot all by himself. It’s kind of amazing.

“Hit me.” Harry offers. He stretches his leg out just enough to poke Louis’ thigh with his foot.

“I’ve always really loved the whole like, nautical thing.” Louis starts, gesturing with his hands. “I think it’s really… you know, romantic. I think it’d be cool to write a song and sort of tie the two in together.”

Harry nods, trying not to show how eager he is about this idea. 

“I love the nautical theme kinda thing too.” Harry comments, still nodding. “It’s like, epic.” He pauses, licking his lips before adding, “A love so deep that the ocean would be jealous.”

“Yeah.” Louis smiles, his eyes crinkling. “I like that.”

“It’s from a poem.” Harry explains. He knows it by heart. “ _From once being a soul once scared of it, I stepped in to the waters letting the fears go. In fact I'm drowning in love, it has stolen my breath, and the joys are pushing me down further, I’m now caught up in its depth._ ”

“That’s beautiful." Louis’ face is awestruck, pulling the lid of his laptop screen down a bit so he can see Harry better. “That’s exactly the kind of thing I want to go for.” 

Harry nods with a small smile, waiting for Louis to continue. This is mostly a brainstorming session, after all, and if Harry can get Louis to get all his ideas and feelings out now, they’ll be halfway there.

Louis narrows his eyes a little, the corners of his mouth turning up as he continues, “When you love someone so much it almost scares you a bit, but it doesn’t, because that love, that feeling, it makes you brave.”

Harry almost forgets to breathe.

“They make you stronger.” Harry adds, unblinking as he smiles at Louis.

“Strong.” Louis repeats quietly, mostly to himself. He sits there quietly for a while, lost in his own thoughts. Harry wishes he could read them like a book, cover to cover. 

After a moment, Louis snaps himself out of it, pulling open his laptop again. “We should be writing this down.”

He begins tapping away on his keyboard, fingers swiftly moving over the buttons, brow knitted in concentration.

“Strong… Almost scares you… Makes you brave…” Louis glances up at Harry quickly before looking back at the screen. “What else?”

“You tell me.” Harry smiles, pushing at Louis’ leg with his toes. 

“Well, there’s like…” Louis thinks out loud, biting his lip. “How people are always trying to run away from love, and they’re scared. But you don’t understand why they would want to do that, because it’s a once in a lifetime thing.”

“Move on to stop their heart breaking.” Harry says, half his own thoughts, half lyric ideas.

“Move on to stop their heart breaking…” Louis glances down at his computer screen, eyes lighting up after a moment. “But there’s nothing I’m running from.”

“It’s perfect.” Harry smiles warmly, genuinely, holding Louis’ gaze once he looks up from his computer screen.

Time sort of flies by after that, and before long it’s five o’clock and they’ve written almost a whole verse of what Harry knows from the bottom of his heart is a really great song.

“This is good.” Louis comments, nodding to himself as he reads over what he’s typed. “This is really good. I love it. I think we can finish off the first verse and maybe more by the end of tonight. Do you mind if I stay for dinner?”

Harry freezes suddenly, frowning a little as he thinks about what Louis just asked him. It’s not that he doesn’t want Louis to stay, he just wasn’t really expecting the offer.

“What? Is that okay?” Louis asks, looking taken aback. 

“Yeah, nothing, it’s just…” Harry scratches the back of his neck, while he pauses. “I haven’t had anyone over for dinner in, like, months.”

“Why not?” Louis asks. “You’re not some kind of weird recluse are you?”

“No, I…” Harry’s voice trails off again, his eyebrows drawing together confusedly. “I don’t know why, actually.”

“Well, I would offer to cook, but A) your kitchen looks far too fancy for my liking, and B) I don’t actually know how to cook.” Louis announces, shutting his laptop and placing it on Harry’s coffee table. “So if you’re taking requests, Harold, I will accept cheese toasties, nachos, or anything involving chicken.”

Harry smirks, rolling his head back until it touches the wall behind the couch.

“Cheese toasties it is.” He decides. “How much did we write?”

Louis glances at the closed laptop. “About eight or nine lines.”

“And you like it?”

Louis nods, an air of caution about it as he again looks at the laptop. Almost like he’s trying to make his mind up.

“Are you sure?” Harry asks, leaning forward again to look at Louis properly. 

“I am.” Louis responds. “But… I don’t know if I trust my own opinion.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asks, frowning. Louis avoids his eye, instead focusing on pulling on his sweatpants. “Lou, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

Louis sighs, defeated, and runs a hand through his messy hand.

“I liked the first album too, and look how that turned out.” He says quietly, almost bitterly, still not looking at Harry.

“ _Up All Night_ was a great album.” Harry tells him, not at all lying. Well, maybe ‘great’ is a stretch. But it was definitely good. 

“‘ _Up All Night_ is aptly named, because that’s what happened to me when trying to figure out what exactly Louis Tomlinson’s usefulness is in One Direction. I still haven’t figured it out.’” Louis recites.

“What?”

“That was published in The Guardian.” Louis squeezes his left hand in his right, staring at the floor under his feet. “And it was one of the nicer reviews.”

Harry stays silent, desperately searching for something, anything, to say. Nothing comes to mind, so he continues to sit and stare at Louis quietly. 

“Our first album was supposed to be our big break. Everyone expected big things from us, especially after you.” Louis glances up at Harry quickly before returning his gaze to the floor, a small smile playing on his lips. “Asshole.”

Harry giggles softly at this, inching himself closer to Louis on the couch.

“But it was a massive failure. No one took us seriously after that, and it’s taken us this long to recover.” Louis sighs, chest rising and falling under his black t-shirt. “All the critics, the fans, they all said that I was holding the group back. That my voice was weak and basically, that I’m shit.”

“You’re not shit, Louis.” Harry replies softly. “I love your voice.”

Louis half-scoffs, half-laughs, scratching aggressively at a toothpaste stain on his pants and still avoiding Harry’s eye.  

“No, come on.” Harry shuffles closer to Louis again, his thigh brushing against the loose fabric of Louis’ sweat pants. “Just because you can’t hit high notes like Zayn or y’know, sing falsetto like Liam, doesn’t mean you’re _shit_. Your voice is different to theirs. But it’s like, a good thing, because they need that. You make them better.”

Louis lifts his gaze to somewhere around Harry’s chest, face still sullen.

“It’s like, a fact. They wouldn’t be here without you, Lou.” Harry pokes a finger into Louis’ side, earning a smile from him that sends waves of relief washing over Harry. “They’d like, fall apart after two days or something.”

Louis shifts in his spot, expression changing with every word. 

“Prove them wrong. Anyone who’s ever said you weren't good enough, or doubted you. This album’s going to blow them away.”

Louis raises his eyes all the way to Harry’s this time, throat bobbing as he swallows. He stares at Harry for a moment, and Harry can see that he’s trying to look for any sign of insincerity. He won’t find it. Harry means every word. He believes in Louis, even if Louis doesn’t quite believe in himself.

Louis leans forward now, wrapping his arms gently around Harry’s broad shoulders and pulling him in close, until their bodies are pressed flush against each other, Louis tucked into Harry’s chest.

“Thanks, Haz.” Louis says, so quietly Harry almost misses it. Almost. “You… Just, thanks.”

Harry hugs him back, wraps his arms around Louis’ middle and squeezes his eyes shut tight. Louis is soft, his breathing is steady and calming, and Harry has held people before but it’s never felt so lovely. He thinks he could stay like this forever.

Harry has never been one to be ashamed of his feelings, or to hide his true desires. His little crush on Louis has been less than subtle up until this point, after all. But now it’s different. Harry is terrified.

He’s falling in love with someone who doesn’t love him back. 

 

 

_/ / /_

 

 

“What’d I miss?” Harry asks as he returns to Zayn and Niall’s living room, hands fiddling with his zipper. 

“Truthfully," Louis starts, in a way that sounds like it’s preceding anything but truth. “we’re discussing how Liam has lost the ability to get an erection. It's in all probability because he has leprosy.”

“He is, as I’m sure you’ve come to expect, joking.” Liam says bluntly, smacking Louis in the face with a pillow at the same time. “I have no problem getting hard.”

“Not when Zayn’s around.”

Liam this time uses the pillow to smother Louis for a few moments, Louis’ legs kicking and flailing in the air.

“Liam! Get the fuck off me, the world isn’t ready to lose me yet!” Louis’ voice is muffled under the pillow, and partially drowned out by the sound of Niall’s cackling, but Harry can just make out what he’s saying. 

“Louis was about to show us what he’s written for that song we were working on.” Zayn informs Harry while Liam cautiously removes the pillow from Louis’ face. He nearly gets his fingers bitten off for it. 

“The first one?” Harry asks, flopping down on the floor next to Niall. “The, um, _without you I’ll never make it out alive_ , that one?” 

Zayn and Liam nod in unison.

“How much did we have so far?” Harry leans over to take a beer from the mini fridge Niall has, by no coincidence, sat himself next to. 

“We had a bit, mostly verse, hadn’t quite nailed the chorus.” Liam reminds him.

“Until now!” Louis announces dramatically, whipping some paper out from under his legs and whacking Liam across the face with it. “I was bored last night, so I started writing and it just kept coming.”

“Is it any good?” Zayn asks. A punch to the leg in Louis’ response. 

Liam takes the pages from Louis’ grasp while he’s distracted. Harry can see through the back to Louis’ messy, handwritten scrawl on the upside, a smile breaking out on his face.

“You wrote all this in one night? Don’t you have hobbies and stuff?" Liam giggles, rifling through the paper. Harry just catches the way his gaze lingers over certain lines, smile stretching wider.

"I do have hobbies actually.” Louis raises his eyebrows, snatching the paper back from Liam. “Sometimes I bake. Sometimes I jog. Sometimes I think about watching you get disembowelled.”

“You’ve never baked or jogged in your life.” Liam responds matter-of-factly, and Harry can’t help but giggle. Louis side-eyes him for it, which only makes him giggle more. 

“No, I haven’t, Liam. But I’ve watched Harry do both, and that counts.”

“It doesn’t count.” Liam and Zayn say in unison, as Liam drapes an arm across the back of the couch. 

“Okay, can we focus here?” Louis raises his hands defensively. “The song, lads. That’s what you’re here for, not your less-than-stellar wit and mediocre comebacks.”

“Did you get the chorus?” Niall asks, crawling in between Zayn’s legs to read what Louis has written out.

“I think so.” Louis exhales, handing the paper over to Niall. “You see for yourself.”

Niall’s eyes scan the paper quickly, and Harry scrambles across the floor to get to his side. Reading over his shoulder, Harry sees the words;

“ _There will always be the kind who criticise,_

_But I know, yes I know we’ll be alright._ ”

“This is exactly what we needed.” Niall says excitedly, reaching now for his guitar and handing the lyrics to Liam. He begins to strum, playing a melody they had come up with the last time the five of them were together.

“Sing it.” Harry says to Louis with a gentle smile. Louis returns the smile, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink as all four of the other boys turn to look at him, Niall’s strumming picking up in pace and intensity.

“This time I’m ready to run, escape from the city and follow the sun,” Louis sings, staring at his lap. “Cause I wanna be yours, don’t you wanna be mine? I don’t wanna get lost in the dark of the night.

“This time I’m ready to run,” Louis continues, Liam singing along softly as he reads over the handwritten words. Louis lifts his gaze, meeting Harry’s with a smile. “Wherever you are is the place I belong. Cause I wanna be free, and I wanna be young, I’ll never look back now, I’m ready to run.”

Niall continues playing on his guitar, changing the melody slightly and nodding to Louis, which Louis returns.

“There’s a future in my life I can’t foresee,” Liam sings along with Niall, the lyrics he’d written himself weeks ago. “Unless of course, I stay on course, and keep you next to me.”

Niall stops playing, silencing his guitar with his left hand. He beams at the other four boys, a look that is mirrored on each of their faces.

Harry can’t believe it. The feeling of getting a song right is always a good one, but this is different. This is something really special. 

“That was fucking amazing.” Louis admits, any trace of bashfulness gone from his expression. “Like, awesome.”

“That was exactly what we wanted.” Liam grins, patting Louis on the back. “Literally, perfect. Louis, you’ve done it again.”

“Well, I’m glad you all like it, because if we don’t get this album right, I strongly believe that it’ll only be a matter of time before we’re prostituting ourselves out to priests in disused warehouses for food.” Louis raises his eyebrows, and Niall bursts into hysterics. 

“What happened to that writers block?” Zayn asks, reading over the lyrics. “I thought you couldn’t write for shit.”

“I couldn’t.” Louis responds, shifting on the couch until he’s leaning against Liam’s arm. “I dunno, since me and Harry started writing that other song, it’s like a wall got knocked down. I can’t stop writing stuff now.”

“Whatever you did, it worked.” Liam adds, shooting Harry a smile and a wink. Harry bites back a cheesy grin. He’s not taking complete credit for this - Louis has natural talent, and is an incredible writer. But to know that he had a part in helping Louis to access these feelings and these thoughts is perhaps the best thing Harry’s ever achieved.

“Has anyone else been working on anything?” Louis asks, now stretching his legs over Zayn’s lap. He tilts his head up to look at Liam. “What about you, Semen Demon?”

“That’s a new one.” Zayn comments with a completely straight face, eyebrows raised. Harry and Niall, on the other hand, are giggling and laughing uproariously, respectively. 

“Yeah, I’m almost finished a song actually.” Liam says absent-mindedly. The other boys look at him all at once with shocked expressions, Louis more so than the others. 

“What?!” Niall exclaims, outraged. 

“Yeah, what?!” Louis echoes.

“I wanted to show it to you guys when it was all finished, and good and stuff.” Liam reasons, voice getting quieter with each syllable.

“Well, is it?” Louis asks.

Liam blinks down at him with a blank expression.

“Is it what?”

“Good and stuff?” Louis repeats, doing a poor job at mimicking Liam’s voice. 

“I’m not going to tell you.” Liam’s says, stubborn and proud, as he yanks a strand of hair from Louis’ head. Louis yelps and slaps Liam on the thigh for it, rubbing at his head with a pout. Harry laughs, this time quietly and to himself, as he watches Louis’ dramatics. 

“You can know all about it when it’s finished.” Liam says with a curt nod. 

“In the mean time…” Niall reaches into the mini fridge and pulls out two beers, passing one to Zayn and one to Liam. “Let’s get pissed, shall we?”

“Can’t say no to that!” Zayn smiles, holding his bottle out to Liam, who taps the neck of his own against Zayn’s. 

“You’re being very quiet over there, Harold.” Louis notes, giving Harry a disapproving look. 

“Maybe it’s because you won’t let anyone else get a word in.” Liam comments, exchanging smirks with Niall. 

“Nobody asked you, Rumpleforeskin.” Louis snaps, earning yet another loud laugh out of Niall. Liam tackles him on to the floor with a giggle, Harry not missing the way that Liam kicks the coffee table out so that Louis doesn’t hit his head.

Sometimes, Harry feels like he’s just observing. Like he’s on the outside, watching all of this take place, watching these boys interact and laugh and joke with each other. But then Louis will look at him and smile, or Zayn will nudge him in the side and make a hushed joke, or Niall will start climbing all over him like a koala, and he realises that this is his life now. He’s a part of this. 

In all honesty, he can’t believe he’s gotten so lucky. 

He’s not used to it. He’s never experienced this sort of dynamic before, and yeah he has other friends, he always has, and they’re lovely people, but it’s never been like this. This is totally different, and totally wonderful. 

Louis and Liam roll around the floor pinching at each other’s arms, pulling on each other’s limbs, and Harry’s pretty sure he can see Louis biting Liam at one point. He and Niall have to preemptively move to safety, climbing onto the couch next to Zayn with their beers and watching the chaos unfold.

“They are ridiculous.” Zayn smirks at Harry and Niall, before turning his attention back to the other two with a concerned frown. “Liam, be careful!”

Yeah, Harry thinks, maybe they are totally ridiculous. But he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

 

 

/ / /

 

 

Niall throws a large container marked “BULK UP” in the shopping trolley, Harry watching carefully as the whole thing shakes. He glances up at Niall incredulously, waiting for explanation.

“Not for me.” Niall explains, raising his hands defensively. He pulls a piece of scrap paper out of the front pocket of his jeans. “It’s on Louis’ list.”

This just leaves Harry even more perplexed.

“Louis? Are you sure that’s not Liam’s list?”

“No, we’re finished Liam’s list. ‘Noodles, sandwich ham, lite milk, bread, minty toothpaste’ _._ That’s Liam’s list.” Niall recites from a second scrap of paper. 

“Alright then…” Harry says warily, eyeing the large container of protein powder. He nudges it away from Liam’s loaf of bread, which it has been squishing since Niall unceremoniously threw it in the cart. “What’s next on Louis’ list?”

“2 litres of mayonnaise.” 

Harry raises his eyebrows, but starts to move anyway.

“Next aisle over.” Harry instructs, guiding the shopping cart around the corner and into said aisle. Niall trails behind, brow furrowed as he reads over the scraps of paper. 

Harry’s not entirely sure how grocery shopping for Zayn and Niall’s house became his job, and not Zayn’s, but he can’t say he’s mad about it. He enjoys it, to be honest - especially when Niall comes with him. Something about the way he always picks the brand with the name he likes the best is endlessly amusing to Harry.

“There.” Niall points to a large display of bottles, stopping Harry in his tracks. “The big ones down the bottom.”

Harry frowns, skeptical, but picks up one of the large bottles anyway.

“Get some barbecue sauce too.” Niall adds, shooting Harry a smile. “That’s for me.”

Harry obliges, returning Niall’s smile as he places both Louis’ obscenely large bottle of mayonnaise and Niall’s normal, human sized bottle in the cart side by side. 

“Alright, next?” 

“Tampons.” Niall reads. “Okay, yeah, he’s definitely taking the piss.”

“Keep the protein powder, Liam will use it.” Harry says, and Niall nods in agreement, replacing the large mayonnaise sauce bottle with one the same size as the barbecue sauce. “We’ll find some stuff that Louis will actually use.”

“Speaking of Louis…” Niall starts. Harry gives him a moment to finish his sentence, but he doesn’t. He just gives Harry a pointed look. Well, really, he just looks like a dog trying to look cute so it can get treats. It’s working.

“What about him?” Harry teases, avoiding Niall’s eye. He scans the shelves to his left as nonchalantly as possible.

“How’s everything going with you two?” Niall presses.

“With what?”

“With the song.” Niall replies, exasperated. He jumps on the end of the shopping cart that Harry is still pushing, forcing Harry to look at him. “Come on, Haz. I’ve read what you guys have done so far.”

“Good, isn’t it?” Harry smirks. He knows what he's doing.

“You know what I mean!" Niall laughs. “Don’t play coy with me, heart eyes emoji Harry!”

“What?” Harry laughs.

“That’s your new nickname.” Niall says through his cackling, cheeks glowing red.

“It’s horrible.” Harry tells him, he too laughing as he continues to push Niall on the trolley.

There’s a moment of quiet after the laughter dies down, Niall staring at Harry, waiting for Harry to offer up any sort of information. He’s not falling for it that easy.

“I’d do anything to save it, why is it so hard to say it?” Niall recites, apparently realising Harry’s stubbornness. 

“I wrote that bit, actually.” Harry replies. Not the most subtle, he will admit. 

“So what about him?” Niall jumps off the cart now, grabbing a box of Froot Loops and throwing them in with the rest of the groceries. Harry gets a box of cocoa puffs too, for Louis. “The rest is mostly him, yeah?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Harry replies, slowly and drawn out. He’s not sure he likes where this is going.

“That’s some deep shit.” Niall comments, falling into stride beside Harry. “Romantic.” He adds as an afterthought.

Harry slows down, until he is completely stopped in the middle of the aisle. 

“It’s not though, is it?” He says quietly.

Niall comes to a stop a few feet ahead of Harry, turning to face him with a completely unreadable expression.

“To be honest, I really don’t know.” Niall chews his bottom lip thoughtfully. “I’ve never really thought about it. Like, whether Louis could actually be batting for the other team.” Harry bows his head awkwardly, staring down at his slightly scuffed boots, and Niall continues, “Doesn’t change who he is, you know?”

Harry thinks on this for a moment, thinks of Louis, his blue eyes and fluffy hair and he saw him an hour ago, but he misses him already. Niall’s words have more weight than he realises. They change Harry’s whole world. 

“Like you!” Niall continues, closing the gap between himself and Harry with a few steps. He throws an arm around Harry’s shoulder and grins, face inches from Harry’s. “You’re as gay as anyone I’ve ever known. And I love you all the same. It doesn’t change anything.”

“Do you actually think he could…” Harry’s eyebrows draw together as he bites his lip. “Like guys?”

“I don’t know about Louis and guys,” Niall starts, squeezing Harry’s shoulder. “But I think Louis likes Harry.”

Harry’s breath catches in his throat, almost choking on nothing as he processes Niall’s words.

“Really?” Harry tries to keep his voice as level and calm as possible. 

“I’ve seen Louis hook up with girls, but, I’ve never really seen him act around anyone the way he does around you.” Niall says, his expression as honest and genuine as Harry has ever seen it. 

Harry forces himself to take a deep breath, letting it out shakily. 

“If Louis was to… Like me… Like, that would be…” Harry shakes his head, trying to clear the mess of thoughts in his head. “You know I like him, right?”

Niall nods reassuringly. 

“Don’t tell anyone, please.” Harry adds quickly. “No one else knows.”

Niall screws up his face a little, confused.

“Wait, I thought everyone knew.”

“What? You’re the first person I’ve told!”

“Oh.” Niall pauses for a moment before a big grin stretches across his face. “Well, I think that tells you a bit about how obvious you are.”

They start walking down the aisle again. Harry pushing the cart and watching as Niall’s shorter legs work faster to keep up with him.

He’s been trying to convince himself ever since he met Louis that any sign he’s seeing, any hints he’s picking up on, are all in his head - that he doesn’t have a chance with Louis and never will. That the undeniable connection he feels between them is caused entirely by his own desperate longing and not a mutual feeling.

He’s never been happier about the idea that he could be completely wrong. 

 

 

_/ / /_

 

 

Harry pulls a heavy candle from the cupboard, squinting to see the label properly.

“Vanilla caramel.” He reads quietly to himself, grinning. “Perfect.”

He stands up, wincing at the pain now in his knees from crouching for so long. He takes a few steps, hobbling, until they feel normal again.

“Louis?” He calls into the darkness. “How’s it going?”

He waits for a moment, looking at the roof. The dead silence is quite peaceful, he thinks. 

“Found a torch!” Louis yells back, voice far away. Harry can hear his distant footsteps, getting louder and closer with each step. Step, step, step, Louis’ Vans on the hardwood floors of his hallway. “But, the batteries are dead. Naturally.”

The footsteps continue to get closer, until Harry hears a loud bang on the door frame behind him, whipping around to find the source of the noise. 

“Ow, that was my leg.” Louis whines. His phone is on the floor, torch illuminated to reveal Louis, bent over and holding his shin.

“You okay?” Harry asks, trying not to laugh. He takes a step closer to Louis, bending slightly to meet Louis’ eye level. 

“Just peachy.” Louis grumbles, rubbing his leg through his pants. He straightens himself up after a moment, picking up his phone as he goes. Harry squints as Louis shines the bright light right in Harry’s eyes. “Anyway! How’d you go?”

“Found a couple of candles.” Harry replies, still squinting. He nods down to his hands, in which he is struggling to hold four different candles. Louis moves the light away from Harry’s face and onto the candles as Harry adds, “One vanilla caramel, one regular vanilla, and two unscented.”

“Who cares what they smell like?” Louis asks, rhetorically of course, as he reaches into his pocket. He pulls out a neon green lighter a second later. 

“I do!” Harry pouts, crouching down to drop the candles out of his hands and onto the coffee table. “How are we supposed to get any work done if the smells around us aren’t harmonious?”

“You do talk some shit, you know that right?” Louis replies, pausing mid-light to give Harry a look. 

Harry ignores him, though he smirks to himself as he spaces the candles out on the table. He can’t pretend that he doesn’t enjoy getting teased by Louis. 

Once the candles are lit, both Harry and Louis drop onto opposite ends of Louis’ couch in synchronisation. Louis’ couch, made of dark brown suede, is about half the size of Harry’s, but Harry isn’t complaining. It just means he has a valid excuse to sit closer to Louis - which is obviously not something to complain about. 

“Does this happen often?” Harry asks, gesturing to the darkness filling Louis’ living room. Louis nods, placing his phone face down on the coffee table next to the candles, light still on.

“I pay my bills, I promise.” Louis replies. “It’s just the shitty fucking wiring in this building. My landlord always says he’s getting it fixed but he never does.” He shakes his head. “I just need to move.”

Harry bites back a ‘there’s room at my place’, opting to nod mutely instead. 

“Right, well, we may as well keep writing this song. Not much else we can do with no power.” Louis says with a sigh, giving the _The Amazing Spider-Man 2_ DVD cover a longing glance. 

This is the first time Louis has invited Harry over - just Harry, no one else - for something other than writing music. He’d insisted that Harry watch _The Amazing Spider-Man 2_ , since Louis found it personally offensive that Harry hadn’t seen it yet, but more than that, he’d insisted that Harry watch it _with him_.

Harry isn’t complaining about writing their song ( _their_ song) with Louis, really, but he can’t deny that it would have been nice to be relaxed on the couch with him, nice and close, watching his reactions and hearing his commentary on one of his favourite movies.

Harry is starting to understand just how fucked he is. 

“We can’t use my laptop, because it needs to be charged.” Louis says, a tone of annoyance in his voice. He leans back with a sigh, carefully propping his feet up on the table to avoid hitting any candles. “What do you suggest?”

Harry’s eyes light up immediately. He whips his light brown leather-bound journal out of his back pocket so fast he almost seriously injuries himself, beaming as he holds it up for Louis to see.

“You carry a leather-bound journal on you at all times?” Louis muses with a smile, reaching out to take the book from Harry.

“It comes in handy more than you’d think.” Harry tells him, smiling as Louis runs his fingers softly over the front cover. 

Louis unwraps the journal, opening it up and flipping through the pages, hesitating on each one. It’s filled with poetry, random lyrics, thoughts - basically the entire contents of Harry’s brain. It’s the most personal and private thing he owns, but with Louis, it seems completely comfortable to be sharing it with him.

And, well, that’s sort of sums it all up right there, doesn’t it?

“This is really cool.” Louis says quietly, admiring one page in particular that’s entirely blank, with the exception of a little bird sketched in the corner. “Are you sure you don’t mind us using it for this?”

“This is what it’s for.” Harry insists, pulling a pen out of his other pocket and handing it to Louis. 

“We have about a verse and a half.” Louis says as he scribbles the lyrics on a blank page of Harry’s notebook. “And I think the chorus is almost done. We just need, like, one more line or something. Something to sort of—”

“Drive it home.” Harry finishes. Louis nods eagerly as he scratches out the last of the finished lyrics in silence. 

“I think that’s about all we had.” Louis says, half to himself, as he reads over the words. 

Harry leans in close, close enough to smell the combination of Louis’ cologne and laundry detergent, reading over Louis’ shoulder.

“I really like this song.” He says softly, smiling. He leans back into the couch, smile growing and he sinks into it. 

“You’ve mentioned.” Louis replies, shooting him a teasing smirk.

Harry laughs a little, cheeks tinted red. 

“No, but, like…” He tilts his head as he reads what Louis has written out, his slanted, messy handwriting looking like it was made to be in Harry’s journal. “I think it’s my favourite. Of all the songs I’ve been apart of.”

Louis looks up from the notebook, expression completely incredulous and almost comical. Sometimes Harry thinks Louis is straight from a cartoon. 

“You’ve won awards. You’ve written songs with legendary artists. Your albums have been number one on iTunes, pretty much forever. But this—“ Louis holds up the notebook and raises his eyebrows at Harry. “This, a song about nautical-based love that you wrote with a washed up boyband member, is your favourite song?”

Harry doesn’t reply for a moment - just sits, the faintest hint of a fond smile on his face as he looks from the journal to Louis and back again. 

The truth is, Louis has no idea how much this whole experience has meant to Harry. It’s like he didn’t realise a part of his life was missing until Simon Cowell introduced him to it at a dinner party. Harry had been searching for something for months, years maybe, and this album, these boys, their songs, have brought him to it. 

“You’ve got a great life, Harry Styles.” Louis smirks.

He takes a deep breath and shakes his head, gaze returning to his own lap. His heart drops a little as he thinks about it all, about what his career has done to his life and what could’ve been.  

“It’s…” Harry begins, with absolutely no idea of how to finish his thought. How does he? How is he supposed to explain how he’s feeling without sounding completely ridiculous? Or more importantly, without Louis thinking he’s an ungrateful jerk?

“It’s so hard sometimes… all the time.” Harry sighs, feeling his stomach getting heavier and his face hotter. “Everyone I meet, they say, ‘you’re Harry Styles! You’re so famous.’ I hate that. I don’t like, want to be that. I don't want to be a superstar, a womaniser, or whatever.” Harry pauses, rubs his jaw. He can’t quite bring himself to look up at Louis to see his reaction to Harry’s sudden honesty. He knows he sounds like a whiny little brat, like someone who can’t appreciate what they have. But it’s not like that. “I want to be, like, ‘Harry, who was a really nice guy’. I miss being ‘Harry who works at a bakery’… ‘Harry who likes singing in the shower’… ‘Harry who is really close with his sister’… Just Harry. I want to be him again. Not this… this version of me they created.”

_And when I’m with you, I get to be Just Harry,_ he thinks, not daring to say the words out loud.

Louis licks his lips quickly and runs a hand through his hair, messing it up a bit. He looks like he’s at a loss for words, but Harry knows him better than that by now. He’s just thinking carefully about what to say next, if anything. Harry appreciates that more than he will ever be able to convey to Louis with words.

“Haz… You’re really lucky.” He starts, resting his hand gently on Harry’s forearm. It sends a jolt through Harry’s body that hits him hard in the chest in the most beautiful way. “I know what you go through is so hard, but like… You’ve made it. People love you, they love your music. Your fans love you. You get to do what you love most for a living. And I know you don’t want to lose that.”

Harry nods his head the tiniest bit, dropping his gaze to the words written on the pages on his little brown notebook, inked in black and scrawled messily in the top left corner. _I’m not scared of love…_

“But you need to look after yourself. If you’re unhappy, you need to just take a step back. Get some perspective, make some changes. Make it fun again. Remind yourself why this is so important to you.” Louis continues. “Because I know it is.”

Harry looks back up at Louis suddenly, his eyes a little wide. His lips are a slight tinge of dark red from chewing them so much, his cheeks flushed pink and his hair going in god knows how many different directions. 

“You make me strong.” Harry says suddenly. He blinks, but continues to stare into the blue eyes of the other boy.

“What?” Louis’ voice is breathless, soft. Harry wants to kiss him.

“You make me strong.” Harry repeats. He finally breaks his gaze away from Louis, tapping his pen on the notebook in front of them. “That should be the next line.”

Louis swallows hard and straightens himself up. “Yeah. I like that.” 

Harry looks back up at him, only for a split second, but long enough to catch the genuine, crinkly-eyed smile Louis is giving him. 

“When I’m not with you, I’m weaker.” Louis adds quietly, his hand brushing against Harry’s as he taps his fingers on the notebook. 

“I’m sorry if I say I need you,” Harry sings softly, afraid to raise the volume of his voice. His eyes are fixed on Louis’ knee, desperate to look at him but not wanting Louis to see what he’s sure is a tell-tale look in his eyes. “I don’t care, I’m not scared of love.”

“When I’m not with you, I’m weaker. Is that so wrong? Is it so wrong, that you make me strong.” Louis finishes, voice equally as soft. It fits. It fits fucking perfectly, and this may be the best song Harry has ever been apart of. 

But that only makes sense, doesn’t it? Because the part of his life that involves Louis is the best part of his life, and the days he sees Louis are the best of his days, and the jokes Louis makes are the best jokes, and the parts of Louis that Harry’s starting to see in himself are the best parts of Harry.

Harry swallows hard, feeling his whole body desperately tugging to touch Louis, even just to graze his leg with the back of Harry’s hand, but he keeps himself still, the only movement between the two of them being Harry tracing his left hand gently across the words on his notebook, written in Louis’ messy scrawl.

_So many words we’re not saying._ His hand stops, tenses over the words that they together have written. _Don’t want to wait ’til it’s gone. You make me strong._

“Strong.” Louis echoes as Harry stares at the last word, as if he was reading in time with him.

“I love it.” Harry leans back on the couch again, not realising until it’s already happened that in the time Harry was leant forward looking at his notebook, Louis has put his arm on the back of the couch behind Harry’s spot. 

Harry thinks about how easy it would be to lean in now, to just lean a little to his right and he would be cuddled into Louis’ side. He could put his hand on his leg and close his eyes and just wait for the lyrics to come pouring out of him.

Harry’s body jolts so much at the thought of it that the whole room flickers. Except, no, wait, that was the power coming back on. Fuck.

Louis’ flat is illuminated again, light bouncing off every surface and causing Louis and Harry to squint at the sudden, unexpected brightness.

Harry sighs. Somehow, being in the darkness had lured him in to a false sense of security and warmth, had made him forget about literally anything else outside of the two of them and the moment they’re sharing. Louis is straight, the lights are on, and they are far too bright for Harry’s liking. 

“Spiderman!” Louis exclaims, practically leaping up from the couch with an excited grin. Harry laughs, undeniably endeared by Louis’ enthusiasm, but his stomach sinks a little. He tilts his head, looks at the spot behind his shoulder where Louis’ arm had just been. So close.

“Yet so far…” Harry mumbles to himself, eyeing his journal. He wants to write it down, trace over it fourteen times until the words are indented into the page behind it. Maybe he will when he’s home later, alone and thinking about this moment and how much he misses it already. 

Louis turns the TV on and puts the DVD in before prancing back over to the couch excitedly. He flops down next to Harry with a contented sigh, leaning forward to get the remotes from the coffee table. 

He leaves the candles burning, Harry notices with a smile. 

As soon as he’s leaned back and settled in his spot, Louis, without hesitation, reaches his left arm back and drops it behind Harry, hand just touching the fabric of Harry’s t-shirt. A totally intentional action, one that Harry’s mind will wander back to regularly for days. 

Harry barely pays attention for the entirety of the movie - just smiles, unwaveringly, and breathes in the smell of Louis. The Amazing Spiderman 2 is the greatest movie he’s ever seen. 

Forget scribbles in the margins of his notebook - Harry thinks he could write a fucking novel about how he feels about Louis.

 

 

/ / /

 

 

“ _Is Harry Styles done with music?_ ” is the headline on the cover of The Sun today, which Niall is reading out loud with great amusement. Harry can’t help but cringe. “ _Sources say the megastar is looking to retire early, and has been looking at houses in Los Angeles._ Wow, Harry, is there something you need to tell us?”

Harry smirks, snatching the paper off Niall as politely as he can. 

“The Sun do this stuff all the time.” Harry says, scanning the front page. There’s a big picture of him hiding his face from paparazzi as he leaves Zayn and Niall’s house, and a few lines of rubbish rumours about how he’s 'done with his fans’. 

“It continues on page 3.” Niall smiles cheekily, nodding his head towards the paper in Harry’s hand. “There is a nice picture of you in there, Liam.”

“What?!” Liam scrambles to Harry’s side, leaning over his shoulder. There’s a small picture in the corner of Harry and Liam walking down the street together, taken by some paparazzi after they had lunch together one day. “Oh, it’s a really nice photo, I like it. Look guys! I’m in the paper again!”

“Congratulations, butt monkey.” Louis comments flatly from his place at the dining table. He’s got his laptop out, working on some lyrics. Liam and Niall look up at him with identical incredulous expressions.

“ _Butt monkey_? Come on, Tommo, you can do better than that.” Liam tells him.

“I know, fuck, I’m sorry. I need a nap.” Louis sighs, pushing his laptop away from him.

“Styles with friend, One Direction’s Louis Tomlinson.” Harry reads, trying to refrain from bursting into giggles.

“There’s a photo of me?” Louis sits up straighter, curiosity peaked.

“No, that’s what the caption is on this one of me and Liam.”

“No!” Liam exclaims, rushing back to Harry’s side. “Oh my god. That’s so embarrassing, they think I’m Louis!”

“Hey!” Louis protests weakly, attention back to his laptop.

“I’m just saying, I dress much better than you.” Liam continues, clearly joking. “I’m personally offended by this.”

“You know, sometimes at night, I dream about you getting cholera.” Louis half-mumbles, definitely loud enough to be heard by everyone. 

“I don’t know what that is.” Liam says, like it’s an adequate comeback.

“What else does the article say?” Niall asks, crawling over to look from Harry’s other side. He hooks his chin on Harry’s shoulder. 

“ _British pop prince Harry Styles, 22, will be the next pop star to quit music for other endeavours, the report claims._ ” Liam reads out loud. 

“I didn’t know you could read, Liam.” Louis chimes from over at the table. His comment goes completely ignored as Liam continues reading, “ _In the summer of 2014, while Styles was on tour in Europe, he spent some time travelling back and forwards to LA to look at houses, the insider revealed._

_“Since finishing up his world-wide stadium tour in November, Styles has been spending more time on personal matters rather than promoting his new album, Where Do Broken Hearts Go, which came out in February. He has been spotted many times hanging out with four-piece boyband and fellow Brits, One Direction. According to reports, Harry has been particularly chummy with band member Louis Tomlinson, 24._

_“‘His priorities have changed’, says the insider. ‘Harry cares more about his friendships and his personal life than his career. He wants to settle down and start a family soon._

_“Simon Cowell plans to hold a ‘futures’ meeting with Styles in August, according to the source. This news is literally breaking our hearts!_ Awww, Harry, you’re breaking their hearts.” Liam teases, messing up Harry’s hair.

“Starting a family, Harry, is there something you need to tell us?” Niall continues the teasing, giggling to himself as Harry shakes his head. 

“I told you, they do this all the time” Harry says. He pulls the page out of the newspaper, balling it up and throwing it at Zayn, who swats it away meekly with his left hand. 

"So, Harry Styles, mega pop star, lord of the ladies, can you confirm these rumours?” Niall says in his best American reporter voice, holding an invisible microphone to Harry’s face.

Louis peers at them from the corner of his eye, fingers hesitating over the keyboard of his laptop. Harry tries not to think too much about it.

“It’s true.” Harry says with a fake, dramatic sigh. “I’m quitting music. Forever. I’ve decided that I want to elope with my lover, Niall Horan, and spend my days farming sugar beets in the Swiss countryside.”

Niall rolls backwards on the floor, laughing loudly and genuinely as he clutches his stomach. Louis shakes his head silently, but Harry can see a small smile on his face.

“You’re an idiot.” Niall says, struggling to speak through his laughter. Harry smirks, pleased with himself. Not that making Niall laugh is a particularly hard task - but it is always nice to see him smile, no matter how often it happens.

“You’re being awfully quiet over there, Zayn.” Liam notes suddenly. Zayn looks up from his lap, startled. He’s been sitting in the same spot on his favourite arm chair ever since Harry arrived at their house about half an hour ago, unmoving and dead silent.

“Yeah.” Harry frowns. Zayn fidgets under the sudden scrutiny; Harry, Niall and Liam all now watching him curiously. “You okay?”

“‘M fine.” He replies. He shoves his hands in his pockets, avoiding everyone’s gaze and refusing to speak more on the matter. But Harry knows Zayn better than that by now, knows better than to push a private person like Zayn to talk when he doesn’t want to. 

“Right, clearly.” Niall raises his eyebrows, returning his attention to Harry nonetheless. “Me and you, Harold. We’re the only normal ones left.” He says with a grim expression.

“Hey!” Liam protests. “What about me?”

“You’re a freak.” Niall tells him with a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “And Louis has been possessed or had his body taken over by alien body snatchers or something. I saw that in a movie once. Look at him! I’ve never seen him so quiet and focused.”

Harry peers carefully at Louis, who, completely uncharacteristically, barely reacts to Niall’s comment. He just looks up for a split second, shooting Niall an amused smile. Maybe Niall’s on to something.

Not with the whole alien body snatchers thing, but the more general concept. 

Harry thinks back to the last times he’s seen Louis, a feeling of dread growing in his gut as the memories flash through his mind. 

He watches Louis, watches his hands move lazily over the keyboard, eyes blank and face completely unreadable, and the sick feeling in Harry’s stomach grows.

He and Louis are friends. Good friends, actually. So what on earth did Harry expect would happen when he started acting too forward with Louis?

_Distance_ , Harry almost says out loud. He feels instantly guilty, wants to pull out his journal and scribble out all the words he’s written about Louis. He doesn’t own Louis, and Louis doesn’t owe him anything. They are _friends_. Harry has absolutely no reason to be upset when Louis doesn’t give him attention, or doesn’t instantly text him back.

He has no right to feel this way about Louis. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t. 

Harry bites his lip, trying his hardest not to show any sign of the paralysing disappointment and hurt he’s feeling. He wants to get over Louis, he really does - for his own sake as much as Louis’. But he also wants to be with Louis. God, he wants to be with him. And right now, and for the foreseeable future, neither of those is going to happen. 

Harry watches as Louis takes a deep breath, leaning back in his dining chair to stretch. The tiniest bit of his stomach is revealed as his t-shirt lifts, and god, that stupid gap of tanned skin between white t-shirt and black waistband makes Harry want to pull his hair out. 

He’s starting to think he’ll always want Louis. Want, in a way that makes his skin prickle and his heart beat faster and his chest tighten and his legs shake. He has infinite amounts of Louis in his heart. Nothing has ever come close to the way that he wants him. 

Harry stares at the side of Louis’ head, wills Louis to look at him, to give him any sort of indication of his mood, his feelings, anything. 

Louis doesn’t look up. 

_It’s alright,_ Harry thinks to himself, swallowing hard and forcing his breathing to slow down. It’s alright. Because Louis is happy, and Harry has Niall and Liam and Zayn, and they all have each other.

He has Louis. Even if he doesn’t really have him.

It’s alright. It may never be more than just that, but it’s all Harry has, and it’s just going to have to be enough. 

 

 

/ / /

 

 

Harry’s feeling better. _Alright_ doesn’t just seem like a meaningless word he repeats to himself over and over again whenever Louis glances in his direction, or when someone mentions Louis’ name in passing conversation. He feels it, now. And it’s largely due to the fact that he’s finally made a decision. 

A definitive yes or no, an answer to the ‘what next’ that he’s been asking himself, that other people have been asking him. A direction (he tries not to smile at his own lame pun). 

He organised this meeting with his management team a week ago, and they’d all rearranged their schedules to make it happen. Harry hasn’t arranged a meeting in months. He’s barely been in touch with his team. The Sun had been right in that regard - Harry’s priorities have definitely changed.

He used to be solely focused on work and his career, not sacrificing any time for his personal life - but then again, he never had much worth sacrificing for. 

Yes, things have definitely changed in Harry’s life. 

He sits down at the large, expensive dark wood table, choosing a seat near the corner. Simon sits down at the head of the table, the last of Harry’s team to arrive. There’s important looking bits of paper everywhere, and everyone looks very serious and determined, but there’s an air of optimism and energy in the room.

Harry almost feels bad for what he’s about to do. 

“So, Harry.” Simon starts, placing his clasped hands on the table in front of himself. “I think I speak for everyone at this table when I say, we hope the reason you’ve organised this meeting is to tell us you’ve been working on some new songs.”

Harry feels totally intimidated under Simon’s gaze, and he knows that Simon is doing it on purpose.Simon wants Harry to cave and go along with whatever his team suggest. 

So, Harry does the totally mature thing and avoids looking at him entirely. 

“I have, actually. I’ve written a few new songs.” Harry says, scanning the room, not allowing himself to make proper eye contact with any one person. 

“That’s great—“

“But, um, I’ve been giving my material to Louis and Liam.” Harry admits, swallowing hard and trying his best to emit confidence. 

“Tomlinson? Payne? That Louis and Liam?” Simon asks. Harry dares to look at him for a whole two seconds before looking away.

“Yeah. The songs I’ve been writing are for One Direction.” Harry tells everyone. “And Little Things, that track that Ed wrote for me, we were talking about it, me and Ed, and like, I think that would sound way better on their album than, like, with me solo.”

“Harry, it's great that you’re collaborating with other artists and helping the One Direction boys, but how are you supposed to put out a new album if you don’t have any material?” 

“Well…” Harry takes a deep breath. Here it comes. “I don’t think I will put out another album. Not for a while, at least.”

“What does that mean for your career?”

“I’m taking a year off.” Harry announces, his voice sounding much more confident and sure than it has so far in this meeting. “I need to, uh, take some time to focus on my personal life. I’ve been feeling, like… drained, lately."

“Harry, you realise this could be detrimental for your career if you take too much time off?” Simon continues. Harry’s starting to think that everyone else in the room is too scared to say anything for fear of losing their jobs. 

Harry folds his hands carefully in front of him, taking a deep breath before looking Simon in the eye. He keeps his gaze steady, confident. Focused. He needs to do this. 

“Simon, I have nothing but respect for you. And I appreciate everything everyone in this room has done for me. But if I don’t, like, take a break, it will be detrimental to my happiness.” Harry says carefully. 

Harry appreciates everything he’s been given his life, _everything_ , but he misses the feeling of sincerity. Nothing and no one feel sincere anymore.

Louis is sincerity. Louis and Niall and Liam and Zayn and sitting in Niall’s living room eating take out and trying to write songs and do work but getting distracted by a slew of inside jokes and well-meant insults - that is sincerity. It’s the most genuine and comforting thing Harry has in his life, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t hold onto it with two hands.

This is what he needs. He knows that now. 

“Alright.” Simon says, leaning back in his chair and taking a deep breath. “Alright. Now our job becomes doing everything in our power to make sure that Harry Styles doesn’t become irrelevant while he takes some time away from the spotlight.”

Harry barely listens to the rest of the meeting. He wants to care, wants to be interested in what his team are planning on doing to keep his career afloat and his finances in tact, but it’s just so hard.

Harry could spend the rest of his days living on Niall and Zayn’s couch, or Liam’s spare bed, or the patch of floor in the middle of Louis’ living room, and he would be okay. Wearing the same clothes every day, eating toast and ramen noodles and working a low-wage, tedious job - Harry wouldn’t mind a bit. So long as he still has his best friends, he truly doesn’t need anything else.

He knows that sounds like a total cliche. And maybe it is - maybe millions of people have thought that and felt this way, but Harry is sure in his heart that they never meant it in the same way he does.

For the first time in a long time, Harry feels like everything is going to be more than just alright.  

 

 

/ / /

 

 

Harry’s first few days of being officially unemployed are spectacularly uneventful, and maybe that’s just what he needed. Collectively over the past five days, all he’s done is had breakfast with Liam yesterday morning, reorganised his kitchen drawers, and written two whole lines of what could one day become a song. 

“ _I don’t ever tell you how I really feel_

_Because I can’t find the words to say what I mean_ ”

Harry stares at the words, inked in black on an otherwise blank page of his journal. He doesn’t know if they’ll fit in to any of the songs he or the boys are working on. He’s not even sure if they’re good lyrics at this point. 

He frowns as he traces his pen over the ‘B’ at the start of ‘Because’. Are they even lyrics? Or are they just feelings that he can’t fathom into logical thoughts and ideas?

Harry’s always had a fascination with words. Maybe that’s why he loves songwriting so much. He just loves that feeling, that sudden moment of “oh my god, yes” that comes with finding a string of words that form a sentence that hit home for him. Words that independently can mean entirely different things, coming together to form a wave of emotion and significance. 

Some people like art - Harry likes words.

He picks up his journal, flipping through until he reaches a dog-eared page. 

_“You are the poem I never knew how to write and this life is the story I have always wanted to tell._

_― Tyler Knott Gregson”_

Printed in the top right hand corner of the same page, small but clear as anything, are three letters - _LWT._  

Harry traces over them with his hand, feeling the indent of pen on paper, feeling it crawl into his skin, up his arm and hit him in the chest. 

“A love so deep, the ocean would be jealous…” Harry says out loud to himself, voice quiet but bouncing off the walls of his vast living room. 

He spends another 10 minutes flipping through his journal, breathing steady and face unchanging as he reads over the words. Some are his own, some are borrowed from others, but all have a common, ever-present theme. 

Harry lets out a deep sigh, pulling his laptop onto his lap from under a couch cushion. Twitter is open already when the screen loads, and the search bar is practically taunting Harry. He’s sick of living in his own thoughts. He wants to know what other people are thinking.

Before he can stop himself, he’s typing “louis tomlinson harry styles” into the search bar and hitting enter. Because Harry’s a glutton for punishment like that. Thousands, millions of tweets appear before his eyes - more than Harry expected. He scrolls past the first few tweets, the follow requests and tweets of thanks, looking for standout posts. Until suddenly, he wishes he hadn’t.

“Harry Styles’ new BFF Louis Tomlinson steps out with girlfriend Eleanor Calder - see the pics here!”

“Well.” Harry says, again to himself. “This was a terrible decision.”

He feels sick. And yet, he still clicks on the link. 

Instantly, dozens of photos of Louis and Eleanor walking down the street holding hands appear before Harry’s eyes. He knows it isn’t real, knows it’s all for publicity, but it still wrenches at his gut and pulls on his chest. Not just because Louis is with someone else ( _holding hands_ with someone else) but because this entire situation is so endlessly unfair on Louis. 

Harry knows that Louis doesn’t want to be doing this. He remembers, their first meeting in the coffee shop. The look on Louis’ face when Eleanor had called him. Like he was being pulled back from the life he wants to lead, to the painful reality of his obligations. 

Harry doesn’t want to ever see Louis look like that. And yet here he is, staring at Louis’ blank eyes, fake smile and hand, clasped by Eleanor’s. Not letting go. 

It twists in his gut as he clicks through the photos, scanning every single detail as he does. The angle of their hands, the distance between them, the look on Eleanor’s face, the look on Louis’ face, back and forward between photos until Harry feels like he’s going to snap. 

He slams the laptop shut suddenly, breaking his trance. His heart is beating fast, chest heaving as he breathes in, out, in, out, trying to calm himself down. 

“You don’t understand what you do to me when you hold her hand.” Harry sighs. 

Picking up his journal and pen again, Harry flips to a page near the back that has an anatomical heart doodled in the bottom left corner. 

_I know that I don’t own you,_

_And perhaps I never will_

_So my anger when you’re with her_

_I have no right to feel._

He scribbles the words in, hastily and messily in the blank ink. It’s from a poem he read a few days ago, one he’d stumbled across when browsing the internet for the perfect words. Words to surmise his feelings, for Louis, for his life, for the ache and longing in his heart. 

He stares at the words for a moment, before adding another “I have no right to feel” underneath, and another after that. 

_I have no right to feel,_ Harry repeats, over and over again in his mind. 

He needs to distract himself, he realises. 

Harry knows his limits, and he knows that another 24 hours spent thinking about Louis, writing about Louis, staring at photos of Louis, will do him in. If escaping this feeling was impossible before, it’s not going to get any easier if he keeps chasing it, trying to understand it.

He scrolls through his IPhone contacts, not even sure what or who he’s looking for, until he reaches the bottom of the list, unable to scroll any further.

And there it is. 

Zayn Malik 

Zayn will be down to come over and distract him. They’ll watch some artsy movie, something that has no remnants of Louis, and Zayn won’t ask any questions. The perfect escape. 

The phone rings three times before Zayn answers.

“Hello?” His voice is quiet.

“Hiiiiiii.” Harry responds, fiddling with the edges of his now-closed notebook. _No more feelings today, stupid notebook,_ he silently chastises it. “What are you doing?”

“Um, I’m just at home. I’m doing some songwriting.” Zayn replies.

“Do you want to like, take a break for a while?” Harry asks. He’s not in a mood to be taking no for an answer. “Or you can come over and we can write together?”

“Actually,” Zayn starts. Harry feels a pang in his chest already. “I’m sort of, you know, kicking goals over here. On a roll. I’ll, uh, catch you another time though.”

Fitting, Harry thinks. He’s not had the best of luck lately.  

“That’s alright.” Harry says, smiling to hide the disappointment in his voice. He can’t be mad at Zayn for wanting to keep working. “I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah. Thanks Harry.” The phone line goes dead after, Harry passively aggressively pressing the home button on his phone. Someone will distract himself, damn it. He navigates through the screens again, scrolling until he finds another emoji-filled contact name.

“Niall James, you’ve never let me down. Don’t start now.” Harry murmurs as he holds the phone to his ear. 

It barely rings twice.

“Harry!” Niall greets him, voice bright and accent thick. “What d’ya know, what d’ya say?”

“What d’ya say, what d’ya know?!” Harry replies, beaming from ear to ear already. He tucks his legs up under himself on the couch, “What’s up?”

“Making a snack.” Niall says. Harry hears the sound of a microwave beeping in the background. “Spicy nachos, ugh, you wouldn’t believe it, they’re amazing. Amazing. Should have my own cooking show.”

Harry’s giggle is masked by the sound of food crunching from Niall’s end of the line. 

“What’s up with you? To what do I owe the pleasure of a phone call?” Niall asks. 

“I’m just on Twitter. Bored.” Harry answers. He glares at his laptop, shooting daggers in it’s direction.

“Ah, yes, Twitter.” More crunching. “My mentions are blowin’ up today, since that whole Louis and Eleanor thing. Did you see it?”

Harry’s stomach churns at the sound of the words. He wishes that the answer to that question was a ‘no’. 

“I did.” He answers, unable to lie to Niall. He leans his head back, staring at the roof. “Have you spoken to him about it?”

“Yeah, before they did it.” Niall’s voice is distorted through the sound of chewing. “He was so mad. Thought he was gonna burst a blood vessel or something. He’s just miserable.”

A selfish part of Harry celebrates, relieved, but it’s instantly brought down with the rest of him. He never wants Louis to be unhappy. 

Louis radiates sunshine, lighting up everything and everyone around him just by existing and being himself. Harry doesn’t want that light to ever go out.

“Yeah, he doesn’t look too happy.” Harry chews his lip thoughtfully, the photos flashing to the forefront of his mind.

“He’s really not.” Niall continues. Harry hears him chewing some more before continuing. “I just hate seein’ him like this. It’s not like Louis to be down. He’s my best mate, you know, I want him to be happy.”

_I think I can make Louis happy_ , Harry nearly says out loud. “Me too.” Is what he says instead. 

The saddest part is, he really does think he could make Louis happy. In an ideal world, where Louis liked guys (or more importantly, liked _Harry_ ), he and Harry would be together. They would kiss each other awake in the mornings and hold each other until they fell asleep at night, and all the space in between would be filled with laughing, smiling and building a life together.

Harry wants to live in that world so much it may kill him one of these days.

 

/ / /

 

 

Harry hasn’t heard from Louis in a week.

He’s trying not to look too much into it, but honestly, it’s killing him. The last time they were together, the two of them had met up with Liam to polish off some of the closer-to-being-finished songs, and Louis had almost been back to his normal self. He’d laughed at Harry’s jokes, willingly engaged in conversation and actually looked him in the eye. 

Whatever alien life force it was that Niall suspected of kidnapping the real Louis had apparently returned him, and Harry was positively chuffed.

So he really can’t figure out why, for the entirety of the last seven days, he hasn’t gotten so much as a snapchat from Louis. And it’s taking all his energy not to ask Liam about it right now. 

They’re sitting at Harry’s shiny white dining table, note paper and pens strewn all over and around their two laptops. It’s totally chaotic, and they’ve only been here for 45 minutes. 

“Baby look what you’ve done to me.” Liam sings, reading the words on his own laptop screen. He frowns, eyebrows drawing together. “Or should it be like, baby look what you’ve done to me.” He sings again, with a slightly different inflection on the last three words.

Harry nods, “I like the second one better.”

Liam sings the line again, mostly to himself, as he makes a note on the open Word document. 

“What have you got?” He says, turning his attention to Harry. 

“Baby you’ve got me tied down, baby I’ll never leave if you keep holding me this way.” Harry sings, following on from Liam’s line as he reads off his own screen.

“Love it.” Liam grins, leaning over to read what else Harry has typed up on his laptop. “ _Now together, we’re alone. And there’s no other place I’d ever wanna go,_ yeah, that’s really good, I like it.” His grin broadens even further. “Really like, romantic.”

Harry resists the urge to laugh out loud at that. _Romantic_ isn’t quite the vibe he’s going for here, but bless Liam for thinking that.

“Where’s Zayn?” Harry asks, pressing the home button on his iPhone to check the time. “I thought he was meant to be coming around too.”

Liam instantly goes a lovely shade of red, looking back to his laptop screen. 

“Yeah, he’s not coming.” Liam answers quickly.

“Why not?”

Liam licks his lips, avoiding Harry’s eye as he types a few more words. Except Harry can read them from where he’s sitting, and they’re not words - just gibberish.

“He’s really busy with other things.” Liam replies.

Poor Liam, Harry thinks. He’s the worst liar ever. 

“What’s going on with him?” Harry asks, poking Liam in the side. “Liam, I know that you know.”

Liam pulls away from Harry’s touch, red in his cheeks deepening. 

“Harry, don’t do this to me.” He whines, shooting Harry a puppy dog stare. Harry doesn’t cave that easy. “I can’t tell you, because not even I’m supposed to know.”

“How do you know then?” Harry frowns, confused. 

“Zayn told me.” Liam admits, biting his lip. 

“So Zayn told you why he’s being weird but you aren’t supposed to know?” Harry says, a tone of incredulity to his voice as he raises his eyebrows at Liam. Harry is more confused than he was before, now. 

“No, Zayn told me what Louis told him and that’s why Zayn’s being weird, because he doesn’t want to give anything away.” Liam replies.

“So Louis told Zayn… something,” Harry begins, trying to make sense of what Liam just said. “And that’s why Zayn’s been acting weird. And Zayn told you, but he wasn’t supposed to tell you.”

Liam nods eagerly, though his expression is still frazzled and his eyes still wild. Harry stares at him blankly for a moment. 

“Liam, this is really confusing.”

“I agree!” Liam throws his arms in the air, exasperated. “I’m completely exhausted, and I just want everyone to not keep secrets from each other, but this kind of secret is something I can’t just _tell_ people. It’s not my secret to tell, or Zayn’s really. You should appreciate that more than anyone, you’ve been through it.”

Harry freezes, heart picking up pace as he looks curiously at Liam. Surely that didn’t mean what Harry thinks it meant.

“What?” Harry replies, mouth dry. 

“Nothing.” Liam says quickly, shifting in his black leather dining chair. 

“What do you mean I’ve been through it?” Harry pushes. If this means what he thinks it means…

“I didn’t say that.” Liam insists. Harry knows what he heard. 

“Liam, is Louis…” Harry breath gets even quicker, his heart pounding in his chest. He can’t even say the words - too afraid of finding out he’s wrong, but desperate to know if he’s right. “Did Louis…”

“I should not have said anything.” Liam shakes his head furiously, fast enough to give himself a headache.

There’s a million thoughts rushing through Harry’s mind right now, and he needs to slow everything down so he has time to work through them one by one, to make sense of them all. 

“Liam. Liam, this is important.” Harry swallows hard, steadying his breath and forcing Liam to look him in the eye. “Is Louis gay?”

“No.” Liam pauses, staring back at Harry.Time stands still, Harry still holding his breath as he looks back at Liam. After a moment, Liam’s expression changes, shoulders dropping in defeat. “Yes. But don’t tell anyone! And please don’t tell anyone I told you, even years from now when we’re all dead. If anyone was stubborn enough to kick my ass even in the afterlife, it would be Louis.”

Harry can’t believe what he’s hearing.

“Oh.” He breathes. He can’t believe he remembers how to breathe at this point. “Oh my god.”

“He…” Liam runs a hand through his perfectly styled hair, messing it up a bit with an exasperated sigh. “He came out to Zayn a few weeks ago. And Zayn wasn’t sure how to act around us, because he didn’t want to make it obvious or say something to give it away. He wanted Louis to tell us when he was ready. But Zayn accidentally told me, and oh God, Harry you can’t tell anyone that I told you.”

“So…” Harry’s gaze is fixed on the table, on his notes, but he isn’t really looking at it. He’s still trying to process everything that’s happening, or wake himself up from what he’s sure is a lucid dream. “Louis is gay.”

“You cannot tell anyone!” Liam reiterates. 

“I won’t.” Harry says, snapping himself out of his reverie to look at Liam. “I just… I really didn’t expect…”

“Neither, to be honest. I mean, I’d never really thought much about it at all.” Liam admits, biting his lip thoughtfully. 

“What does this mean for me and Louis?” Harry says, entirely to himself as he reads over the words he’s typed on his laptop. He glances quickly at his closed journal, the home of his innermost feelings for Louis. The idea that they may be reciprocated is something Harry can’t even begin to process.

“You and Louis?” Liam asks, screwing up his face. It stays like that for a moment before the realisation hits him, his jaw dropping and eyes widening. “Oh my god, do you like Louis?”

“Obviously!” Harry exclaims, smiling fondly at Liam as he gestures at the lyrics surrounding him.

“Oh wow, that’s—“ Liam stops himself short, his happiness for Harry suddenly overpowered by disgust. He looks back at the lyrics on his laptop screen. “Oh, Harry! This song is about sex isn’t it? I’ve been writing this song with you, helping you out, trying to be a nice guy, and this whole time it’s been about your sex fantasies with my best mate. Oh, god.” 

“I may have had a sex dream about him that involved bondage.” Harry admits with a cheeky grin, causing Liam to shudder and swear. “It was super _romantic_ , I promise you.”

“You are a sick man.” Liam tells him, shaking his head and pushing his laptop further away from him, as if having sexual fantasies about being tied up by Louis Tomlinson is contagious.

Harry’s giggles die down after a few moments as he looks at his surroundings and thinks about Louis. Louis, who must have been confused and scared and hurting for years without anyone noticing. Louis, who has always blown Harry away with how confident and bubbly he is. 

No wonder he’s been acting weird lately.

Harry suddenly feels heavy, weighed down from the inside out as he wonders if Louis is okay. When Harry came out when he was 15, he was surrounded by so much love and support and positivity that it almost warped his view of the world. He hopes to every god there is and ever was that Louis feels that same support. 

Louis deserves to feel loved, and Harry’s going to make damn sure that he does. 

 

 

/ / /

 

 

Harry has always been one to get nervous easily. It’s something he’s mostly overcome as he’s matured and aged in recent years, but as a child and through his teenage years it was something that always threw him off. 

When he was 11, he was in a school play. He was Tree #1. His entire role consisted of standing in the background as still as possible. Yet, he still managed to both throw up 2 minutes before the start of the play, and pass out on stage 17 minutes into it. 

His sister Gemma has it on DVD at home. She sits the whole family down and makes them watch it every year on Harry’s birthday.

During Harry’s first solo performance after the X-Factor, he was so nervous that his hand couldn’t stop shaking violently and he ended up singing terribly. He still believes that he would’ve lost his record deal after that, had he not been in an iron-clad contract.

Now, 22-years-old and having dealt with many anxiety-inducing experiences in his life, Harry feels like he’s pretty good at handling his nerves. Yet here he is, shaking like a leaf in a tornado as he pins up the last corner of the banner, smoothing it out as carefully as he can. 

“Well,” He says to himself, straightening out his t-shirt. “if I throw up all over everything, at least that’ll make a good story.”

His phone buzzes on the table next to him, screen lighting up with a notification.

**Louis Tomlinson** now

Pulling up to yours now, so if you’re doing anything weird please stop immediately 

Harry’s breath hitches in his throat as the screen fades to black again. He hears a car door closing, footsteps crunching on gravel, the front door opening…

“Harreh?” Louis calls, voice bouncing through the house. Then, more quietly, “What the fuck…”

“I’m upstairs!” Harry calls back - well, he tries to, but his voice breaks halfway through the words. 

The sound of footsteps travels up the confetti-covered stairwell into the living room, where Harry stands, waiting with his hands fidgeting in front of him. 

“Harry, what the fuck is going—“ Louis steps into the room, mouth instantly falling agape as he takes in his surroundings.

“Surprise!” Harry exclaims— well, he means to exclaim it, but it comes out more like he’s shouting at Louis and trying to frighten him. 

Louis’ mouth is still dropped open, eyes scanning around the room in shock and eventually falling on the banner above Harry’s head. 

“Deepest sympathies?” Louis reads, the picture of confusion.

“Yeah, they didn’t have any other banners at the store I went to.” Harry frowns, turning around to look at the banner himself. “I really don’t know why they’d make a banner for deepest sympathies. It seems kind of, like, morbid. And insensitive.”

“Harry, you realise it isn’t my birthday. And no one died…” Louis says, once again scanning his surroundings. The whole room is decorated in confetti and colourful streamers, with a few stray balloons kicking around on the floor. It looks less like a birthday party and more like the mess left over hours after the birthday party has ended, but Harry tried his best. 

“I know.” Harry replies, swallowing hard. “This isn’t a birthday party. This is a ‘Louis, You’re Amazing’ party.”

It’s not far from the truth. Harry hasn’t known what to do since he found out about Louis coming out. He wanted to do something, to show Louis that he’s there for him always, as a friend or otherwise, but he didn’t want to suffocate Louis or freak him out. It’s a very fine line to walk, but Harry eventually decided that the perfect solution was a surprise party. Naturally.

If there’s a better way to show your support for someone you have great love for that has recently come out, Harry would like to hear it. Mostly so that maybe he doesn’t look like so much of a tit if this is, for whatever reason, to ever happen to him again. 

Louis keeps stepping closer to Harry, eyeing him suspiciously, the tiniest smile creeping on his face.

“Did you steal money from me?” Louis asks. “Did you kill my puppy? What’s your motive here, Styles?”

“No motive.” Harry assures him, holding up his hands defensively. 

“So you threw me a surprise party.”

“Yes.”

“But we’re the only one’s here.” Louis points out, cocking an eyebrow. He’s only a few steps away from Harry now, so close Harry can see his chest rising and falling with the black fabric of his t-shirt, the top of his chest tattoo peeking out above his neckline.

“Yes…” Harry says slowly, looking around the empty room. He maybe should have thought this through a little better. It seems a bit stupid now. 

But Louis keeps walking, smiling, until suddenly Harry realises just how awfully close he is. He’s nervous; not pass-out-dressed-as-a-tree nervous or singing-on-live-television nervous, but a wonderful kind of nervous he’s never been before. 

Louis stands on his tip-toes now, wrapping a hand around Harry’s neck, gripping him by the back of the head and pulling him in close before Harry even knows what’s happening. 

They’re kissing. Louis is kissing Harry. His mouth is on Harry’s, his hands are tangled in Harry’s hair, and Harry isn’t fucking dreaming. One of Louis’ hands falls down, catching on Harry’s hips and gripping him there firmly. Harry eventually wills himself into action, opening his mouth and kissing Louis back like he’s never kissed anyone before, because oh my god this can’t be happening, except that it is and Harry wants to make it last forever.

When they separate, Harry’s eyes stay closed, his body and his mind both unable to catch up with what’s happened.

When he finally opens his eyes, he sees Louis smiling, fondly and awestruck like he’s wanted this forever, and Harry realises that _oh_ , maybe he has. 

“I- I’m sorry, if that wasn’t okay…” Louis’ face falls, his cheeks reddening and holy shit he actually looks _bashful_. 

Maybe it’s how adorable Louis looks when he’s bashful, or maybe it’s Harry’s desire to show Louis just how _okay_ this is, but Harry is the one to lean in now, kissing Louis softly, reassuringly. His hands are no longer limply by his sides, instead holding Louis by his hips and pulling him in closer. Harry feels Louis’ hands slide up his sides, eventually finding their way back to Harry’s neck, and Harry knows for sure now that nothing else in his life will ever feel as beautiful as this.

Harry pulls back after a moment, against his better judgement, unable to stop the huge grin plastered to his face.

“He told you, didn’t he?” Louis smirks, brushing a strand of Harry’s hair out of his eyes. Harry feels like his knees are about to give way. “Liam. I should’ve known—“

“I’m sorry, Louis.” Harry gushes, pulling Louis even closer. He could be flush against Harry and it still wouldn’t be close enough. “Really, I didn’t mean to—“

“No, it’s okay.” Louis assures him. He rests his forehead against Harry’s, their lips brushing together. “I wanted to tell you. I just didn’t know how.”

He presses a chaste kiss to Harry’s lips. 

“So shitlord Liam did me a favour, I guess.” He laughs softly. 

“I had no idea.” Harry says, feeling stupid as he says the words. Louis brushes his nose against Harry’s, sending shivers throughout Harry’s whole body. “I’ve been so, like, hung up on you, this whole time. And I had no idea.”

“I wasn’t sure what it meant.” Louis says, voice almost at a whisper. His smile is gone now, but he doesn’t look unhappy. “I dunno, I had to…” He pulls a face, trying to come up with the words he’s looking for. “I guess, come to terms with what I was feeling.”

“I know it’s a really hard thing to deal with.” Harry says, dropping his gaze to watch himself take Louis’ hands in his own. They’re smaller than his own, and they fit perfectly in Harry’s grasp. Of course.

“It is.” Louis admits. He straightens himself up, getting some distance between his face and Harry’s, but keeping his gaze locked on Harry. Green eyes on blue, honest and wanting, like something straight out of one of the poem’s in Harry’s book. “But… I could lie, to you, to myself, to everyone. But you’re the one, Harry. And I’m so stupid for waiting so long to tell you.”

_You’re the one._ Harry repeats to himself. Or maybe he said it out loud - in the ecstatic, awe-filled state he’s in, he can’t be too sure. He has those exact words written in careful block letters on a page in his journal, framed on either side by a two sparrows. He wrote them for himself, with full surety that he meant them entirely, but god, he never thought he’d hear Louis say them. Now that he has, he never wants to hear anyone say anything else again.

“What gave me away?” Harry asks with a playful smirk. He knows plenty of things that could’ve easily done it, but he’s curious to know which was the most obvious.

“Nothing in particular.” Louis replies, playing with Harry’s hands. “Just… the look in you’d give me, those times when I was looking at you and got lucky enough that you were looking back. I knew. Just knew, that there was no way I was the only one feeling what I felt.”

“I always knew you were a smart man, Louis Tomlinson.” Harry smiles as he leans in to kiss Louis again, and honestly at this point he feels like his face is about to split in half. 

“There’s nothing I’m running from,” Louis murmurs in between kisses, moving from Harry’s lips to his jaw, stubble grazing lightly across Harry’s fair skin. “You make me strong.”

Harry’s heart lurches in his chest, fists bunching in Louis’ t-shirt as he pulls him closer, even closer, needs to have him closer. “I can’t believe you’re quoting your own lyrics to me, you sap.” He mumbles back, like it’s a joke, teasing, but it’s the most romantic thing he’s ever heard and he’s never felt more overwhelmed with affection.

“You make me strong.” Louis repeats before pressing his lips to Harry again, kissing him like he has a point to prove.

“Don’t let me go.” Harry pulls back, a hand on each side of Louis’ face. He needs Louis to know how much he means this. He’s never meant anything more in his life.

“I’ll always hold on,” Louis breathes, his hands squeezing Harry’s hips lightly, “because you make me strong.” And really, of course they’re this couple (is Harry allowed to call them a couple yet? He’s not sure, but he definitely wants to), quoting their own sappy love lyrics to each other. And Harry loves it. 

Louis pulls back after a while, taking a step backwards and looking at Harry. Really looking at him, eyes scanning his features, smiling growing for each second that he does. 

“Wow.” He says eventually, softly. “I can’t believe this is actually happening.”

“You’re telling me.” Harry laughs, closing the distance between them again to kiss Louis. He loves the way Louis tastes, loves the way Louis’ lips feel, the way Louis holds him when they kiss, loves Louis and every little thing about him like he’s never loved anything before. “I’ve wanted to kiss you ever since Simon’s dinner party, first time I saw you. And you told me that you liked my flamingo shirt.”

“Romantic. Though I do like that shirt.” Louis smirks, squeezing Harry’s hips. Something in Harry’s chest flutters. “I’ve wanted to kiss you ever since Simon’s dinner party too, when you laughed so hard at something I said that you spat wine everywhere.”

Harry groans, blush creeping into his cheeks. “No, that’s awful. Can’t we pretend it’s something else?”

“Nope.” Louis grins cheekily. “That’s it. That will forever be burned in my mind as the first moment I wanted to kiss you.”

“I hate you.” Harry mumbles with a smile, kissing Louis again.

“Apparently.” Louis giggles against Harry’s lips. 

As Louis pulls Harry in closer, kissing him and holding him and breathing him in, Harry almost can’t remember what it felt like to be lonely. The feeling seems distant to him, like it was apart of a previous life led by a different person. And Harry realises, now more than ever, that sometimes a person can be more home than the house you live in. 

 

 

/ / /

 

 

Harry has always loved having long showers. He lathers his body from head to toe in the best smelling shower gels, washes his hair carefully and thoroughly, sings to himself, writes on the foggy glass walls, lyrics and words and thoughts, manages to both clear his mind and occupy it with a thousand more thoughts at the same time. Also he totally loves being naked. Harry is in his element when he’s in the shower.

But today, he can’t get in and out of the shower fast enough. And yeah, maybe it is entirely because he knows Louis is waiting for him. 

Harry’s still dripping wet and naked as he walks back into his bedroom, having not bothered to towel himself properly upon exiting the shower. He and Louis have wasted a lot of time waiting for each other - he’s not going to keep Louis waiting any longer than he needs to (even if they did spend the last three hours talking and kissing and eating dinner together).

And it’s not like Louis hasn’t seen Harry’s dick before - he’s had it in his mouth, even, the same night that they had their first kiss. So it’s not at all weird that Harry is walking in, unashamedly stark naked and wet. 

Harry’s gaze instantly falls upon Louis when he looks up; messy hair, shirtless, lazily spread out on his side ( _his_ side, he has a side - it’s still so surreal to Harry) of Harry’s bed watching infomercials on the TV. Utterly beautiful. Harry almost stops short, almost has to pause to take his breath as he stares at Louis, in all his natural and incredible glory.

Louis is apparently in the same position, Harry notices, as he catches Louis’ eyes dragging from Harry’s hair, wet and floppy, down, his chest, broad shoulders, down, tattooed torso, down, down, to his cock. Big, unclothed and now, twitching with anticipation. The look in Louis eyes is a familiar one to Harry, he realises with a sudden twinge in his lower abdomen - it’s hungry, it’s wanting, and it comes with Louis’ hand travelling down his body, feeling every bit of skin as it reaches the waistband of his sweatpants. 

Louis wants him. And _dear heavens above_ , does Harry want Louis.

“Hi.” Harry smirks, dragging his teeth through his lips as he watches Louis’ hand. It’s twitching now, hesitating over the elastic waist of Louis’ grey sweatpants. 

“Hi.” Louis replies, voice squeaky and hushed. 

Harry takes a step closer to the end of the bed, another step, closer, closer, until he's climbing on the expanse of white, messed up sheets, crawling up over Louis’ legs until his face is hovering over Louis’.

Their breathing is matched, heavy and shaky as Harry closes the distance between their mouths, kissing him gently, slowly. He holds himself up over Louis, hands gripping the bed sheets either side of Louis’ head as he deepens the kiss, sucking on Louis’ bottom lip, resisting the urge to drop his hips until he’s sure, until Louis is sure. He doesn’t want to rush this. He may want Louis so bad that it’s made his head ache every day for the past week, but he cares about Louis too much to push it.

Louis gives in to Harry’s kiss, kisses him back with just as much wanting as his left hand moves up to the back of Harry’s neck. He pulls Harry closer, pushing his tongue into Harry’s mouth and tugging on Harry’s wet curls. 

Louis’ other hand is wandering, fingertips lightly grazing the back of Harry’s thigh, making their way up, up, until his hand finds Harry’s naked ass. Louis lets out a breathless little moan, high-pitched against Harry’s lips as he grips Harry’s cheek hard, and whether it’s intentional or not Harry actually can’t tell, but he can’t help it, pushes his hips forward against Louis, his whole body pulsing with pleasure as his cock presses into Louis’ hip and Louis’ presses into Harry’s. 

Harry pushes back off his hands, wrists slightly cramped as he readjusts, one hand resting on Louis’ shoulder and the other cupping his face. Louis’ skin is hot, tingling against Harry’s as they kiss, tongues flicking against each other as Harry rolls his hips against Louis’ again. Louis moans, except _fuck_ , it’s not quite a moan, it’s a whine, it’s high-pitched and wanting and Harry has never been more attracted to a single sound, and Harry needs to move this along before he comes without even being touched.

He pulls back, lifts his hips up off of Louis’ (which doesn’t come without a sad moan from Louis) to allow for Louis to take off his remaining clothing. He seems to get the hint, hands fumbling with waistbands as he pulls his sweats and his pants off in one hasty movement, throwing them god knows where. 

Harry barely waits for them to be fully discarded before he reattaches his lips to Louis, specifically Louis’ neck, sucking and biting hard as Louis’ breath audibly hitches. 

“Jesus.” Louis mumbles, both hands gripping Harry’s ass now. 

Harry sucks until he’s sure it’ll leave a bruise, before pulling back and crawling backwards on the bed. He moves down Louis’ tanned, naked body and gets comfortable over Louis’ legs. His face is inches away from Louis’ cock, hard and flush against his belly as his hand twitches near his side, clearly desperate to touch it, to get some friction. 

Harry looks up at Louis now, face getting closer to Louis’ erection. 

“Is this…” Harry glances back down to Louis, makes it obvious what his intentions are. “Okay?”

Louis nods, wordlessly, eagerly, jaw slack as a lock of hair falls into his face. He throws his head back in to the pillow, as though the image of Harry, naked and so close to Louis’ cock, is too much for him. Maybe it is; situations reversed, Harry would probably be blacked out right now. 

Harry takes Louis’ erection into his left hand, right hand fisting the sheets as he moves to take Louis’ cock in his mouth. His tongue hits the tip first, licking Louis’ slit as his mouth closes over the head, lips wet and surely obscene looking. Louis ragged and breathy moan is followed by a deep breath, shaky and uneven as Harry takes the rest of Louis into his mouth. 

“Fuck, Harry.” Louis mutters as Harry’s lips meet his own hand, gripping the base of Louis’ cock. He gags a little, eyes prickling as he holds all of Louis’ considerable length in his mouth for a moment. He pulls back, tongue pressed to the underside of Louis’ cock as his hand follows the movement, working Louis’ cock in rhythm with his mouth.

He teases Louis, tongue swirling around his tip more often than not, only to plunge back down to deep throat Louis just when he least expects it. It elicits a high-pitched moan out of him each time, Louis torn between wanting to buck his hips up into Harry’s mouth and not wanting to hurt him, and Harry has never been one to particularly enjoy giving blow jobs, but he will do it every day for the rest of his life if it means he gets to hear Louis like this.

Louis’ hand finds its way into Harry’s hair, combing through the damp curls before pulling roughly, pulling Harry off his dick, Harry making an obscene wet noise as he does.

Louis’ jaw is slack, lips wet and puffy and pupils blown wide as he looks Harry in the eye and says, “Want to fuck you so bad right now.”

Harry is completely surprised he manages to hold it together long enough to not come just at that. 

He springs to action immediately, nodding eagerly and wordlessly as he clambers back up to Louis’ head, pressing a kiss to his sweaty chest as he leans over to the night stand next to the bed. There’s a stray condom and a half-empty bottle of lube (Harry’s been thinking about Louis _a lot_ lately) in the top drawer, and Harry wastes no time opening them both. He rolls the condom over Louis’ cock, still wet from Harry’s mouth, desperately trying to calm himself as he hears the restrained grunt Louis makes at the touch. Harry pours a generous amount of lube onto his fingertips, using some to slick up Louis and with the rest, he reaches between his legs, easing his index and middle finger inside himself, eyes squeezed shut and cock twitching against his stomach. 

He opens his eyes again to find Louis watching him in awe, and it sort of hits him all at once that this is the first time Louis is having sex with a guy.

“New at this.” Louis half-laughs, almost like he can read Harry’s thoughts. Or maybe he said it out loud. He wouldn’t be able to say for sure at this point, so fucking hard and ready for Louis to fuck him senseless. 

Harry smiles, repositioning himself so he’s hovering over Louis hips, Louis’ cock gripped in one hand.

“Don’t worry,” Harry smirks wickedly, teasingly. “I’ll go easy on you.”

And with that, he lowers himself onto Louis, sinking down in one, slow motion, ignoring the slight burn until he’s sitting, ass flush against Louis’ hips. 

“Fuck, fuck.” Louis whispers, eyes fluttering closed as he reaches out to grab Harry’s hips. He digs his fingers in so hard it will probably bruise. Not that Harry cares. In fact, he wants it to bruise, wants physical reminders of this night and this moment, of Louis wanting him just as much as he wants Louis. 

Harry stays there for a moment longer, hands moving up Louis’ torso and gripping onto his shoulders until eventually, he lifts up again, slowly but quicker than before, and it feels so good, _fuck_ it feels so good, Louis’ cock big and hard inside Harry and stretching him open better than anything else ever could.

Harry picks up the pace, lifting himself up and pushing himself back down onto Louis faster and faster, needs to feel Louis all the way inside him, needs to be fucked by Louis. It gets more and more frantic, both of their chests glistening in sweat and eyes fluttering open and shut as Harry slams himself onto Louis, letting out ragged, deep moans that come from somewhere deep in his gut, in perfect harmonisation with Louis’ breathy, high-pitched moans. 

Louis grips Harry’s biceps hard, as hard as Harry is gripping on his shoulders. “Are your legs getting sore?” He asks, breathless. 

Harry shakes his head no, but squeezes his eyes shut as he does. His legs are quivering, quads shaking as he bounces on Louis’ dick, but he honestly hadn’t noticed it until Louis brought it to his attention. He slows down his movements, resting himself ass-to-Louis’-thighs as he tries to catch his breath back.

Harry locks eyes with Louis, chest rising and falling heavily as Louis’ eyelashes flutter, lip caught between his teeth. Harry rolls his hips, lifting them just enough, and Louis is moaning again, snapping his hips up and gripping hard onto Harry’s sides. It’s just enough movement to get them both off without tiring Harry out completely. He drags his right hand from Louis’ shoulder, nails scratching all the way down his chest and stomach, leaving a trail of red marks behind.

He grips his own cock in his hand, nearly finishing himself off at the first, long-awaited touch. 

“Fuck,” Harry whispers, giving himself a long pull before working his tip, spreading the pre-come all over the head.

“Could watch you play with yourself while you ride me forever, fuck.” Louis breathes, laughing in disbelief as he throws his head back, followed by another whiney moan, and Louis may not have fucked a guy before, but he’s definitely fucked _someone_ because Jesus Christ, he knows what he’s doing. His hands grab at Harry’s ass, guiding his movements as he rolls his hips. 

“C’mere.” Louis mumbles, hands finding their way back to Harry’s hair and roughly pulling him closer. His lips find Harry’s, their kiss messy and clumsy as Harry continues to grind on Louis, hand working harder and faster on his own cock. 

“Are you gonna come for me, baby?” Harry asks, voice low, knowing he can’t keep holding this back much longer. He needs to come, needs to let this go.

Louis nods, eyes closed. “‘M close. Really close.”

“God, me too.” Harry tells him, and with that he sits back up and picks up the pace again, working his hand and his hips harder and faster, faster, the familiar feeling growing low in his gut as his moans get louder and more frequent, Louis unable to even keep his eyes open as he digs his fingers into Harry’s sides. 

“You feel so fucking good, Haz.” Louis mumbles, semi-incoherently. “So tight, oh—“ He cuts himself off with a particularly loud and high moan, and oh my fucking god Harry can’t hold it anymore. 

His whole body tenses, cock spurting come all over his hand and Louis’ stomach. He twitches as the last of it comes out, all the way from Louis’ nipples to his pubic hair.  

“Oh, fuck, fuck, Harry, I can’t—“ Louis silences himself with a low growl, digging his fingertips into Harry’s hips so hard that Harry thinks he will feel it for days as he comes inside Harry, eyes shut and lip caught between his own teeth.

Harry sits there for a moment after Louis finishes, panting like he’s just run a marathon and entirely unsure of whether he’s still wet from the shower, or whether he’s just that sweaty. His closes his eyes as he gently pulls off Louis, the raw dragging feeling of Louis’ cock on his rim slightly paining him as he does. He flops onto the bed next to Louis, making the whole mattress bounce as he does. 

Louis hair is stuck to his forehead with sweat, eyes opening and shutting sleepily as his right hand absentmindedly traces patterns through the come Harry left on his stomach. 

_We should definitely clean that up_ , Harry thinks. But right now, he’s just completely fucked, and he honestly doesn’t think he’ll be able to move for several days. Maybe even weeks. 

Harry manages to just reach an old t-shirt that’s on his floor, wiping it weakly over Louis’ stomach as Louis ties up the used condom and throws it in the general direction of Harry’s waste bin. 

“Wanna order in Thai food tomorrow.” Harry mumbles as he lazily folds up the t-shirt and places it back on the floor. He shuffles closer to Louis on the bed, not bothering to get under the covers as he snuggles himself into Louis’ chest. “Stay home and watch some episodes of _Parks and Recreation_ or something.”

“That sounds amazing.” Louis replies with a smile, eyes still shut. He wraps both his arms around Harry, pulling him closer and placing a gentle kiss to his sweaty forehead. “We’ll split some pad thai. And sleep in until midday.”

“I like the way you think.” Harry can barely understand his own words, eyes now shut and so heavy as he feels himself falling asleep.

“I like you.”

“I like you more.”

“That’s not possible.” Harry thinks he hears Louis reply, but he doesn’t get to fight it, because they’re both already asleep. 

 

 

_/ / /_

 

 

Harry wakes a few hours later, vision hazy and hair messy and, to be completely honest, feeling entirely fucked out. He’s not sure his legs will ever work again. 

He lazily reaches a hand over to the other side of the bed, trying to find Louis’ chest. His hand, instead, finds nothing but sweat and come stained sheets and a pillow without a head on it. 

Harry, frowning, lifts the top half of his body off the bed to scan his surroundings, looking for Louis. Surely he didn’t dream all this. Surely the raw burn in his ass isn’t from sleep-fucking himself on a dildo. 

The bedroom is dimly lit, light fighting to break through the curtains. There’s clothes strewn everywhere, Harry not totally sure which of it is his and which is Louis’. 

And there he is. Completely naked with the exception of his little black pants, sitting on the end of Harry’s bed with his phone in his hand. He’s tapping away furiously on the screen, typing something as his brow remains knitted in concentration. He doesn’t seem to notice that Harry’s awake yet.

He’s absolutely beautiful. 

“Morning.” Harry says, voice thick with sleep. 

Louis’ head snaps up, face melting into a lovesick grin as soon as he sees Harry staring back at him. “Hi love.”

“What’re you doing?” Harry mumbles, crawling closer to Louis. “Updating your Facebook status? ‘Harry Styles rocked my world last night’?” He smirks as he reaches Louis’ side, pressing his lips to Louis’ shoulder blades. He can see the screen of Louis’ phone now. It’s open on Notes.

“Not quite.” Louis answers, still smiling. “Writing.”

“Song writing?” Harry asks. Louis nods in response.

“Can you sing it for me?” Harry grins, pressing little kisses all over Louis’ upper back. Louis laughs softly.

“Nah, don’t have a melody yet. Just lyrics.”

Louis hands him the phone, slightly apprehensive as Harry takes it and squints through sleepy eyes as he struggles to read the screen.

“Waking up beside you, I’m a loaded gun, I can’t contain this anymore, I’m all yours, I’ve got no control.” Harry reads, husky-voiced and incredibly amused. “Louis.”

Louis looks up at him through long, thick eyelashes, the tiniest hint of a smirk playing on his lips. Harry bites his lip, bites back a giggle as he leans forward to look over Louis shoulder. 

“Is there something you want to tell me?” Harry asks, smug as fuck as he reaches forward, flattening his whole hand over Louis’ barely-clothed crotch. Louis resists, fights back as he laughs and swats at Harry’s hand. To Harry’s credit, Louis is half-hard in his shorts already. “Did you write a song about morning sex?” Harry continues, teasing Louis as he tightens his grip on Louis’ dick. 

Louis unfolds his legs, tangling them amongst Harry’s as he uses his position to get leverage. He pins Harry to the bed, laughing breathlessly as he swats at Harry’s left hand and pins his right hand to the bed.  

“You—“ Harry manages before he loses his breath again, laughing uncontrollably as Louis’ grip slips and he falls on top of Harry. It knocks the breath out of him even more, Harry letting out an ‘oof’ as Louis tries to stop laughing, tries to bite it back just long enough to check if Harry’s okay.

“S-sorry.” Louis bites at Harry’s bare chest where his mouth has fallen. Harry isn’t proud of the way his legs involuntarily kick up at this, knocking Louis to the side as both of them burst into giggles again. 

“You know,” Louis starts, panting as he climbs back on top of Harry. “I’m starting to think this is a little bit unfair.”

“Why’s that?” Harry smirks, reaching out again for Louis’ dick. He instead finds himself getting his left nipple squeezed, stopping him short as he arches up into Louis’ touch. 

“You’re a little bit bigger than me.” Louis laughs, releasing his hold on Harry’s nipple. He moves his hands down Harry’s naked torso, hands resting at the laurels inked just above the start of Harry’s pubic hair. “Just a little bit! But still, it’s not fair. Size advantage and that.”

“Just a little bit.” Harry teases, still smirking. He reaches up, getting a firm hold of Louis’ biceps and using it to pull him closer. 

“Only a little bit.” Louis repeats, voice hushed and face only centimetres from Harry’s. They’re both nearly breathless, panting and red-faced, and when Louis leans forward just a little bit closer, Harry can feel how hard Louis’ gotten as their erections rub against each other.  

“Seems like a silly question,” Harry says quietly, pointedly glancing down to Louis’ bulge. “But are you ready for round two?”

“I dunno,” Louis hums, pressing a long kiss to Harry’s neck. Harry’s eyes flutter shut, hips bucking up a little as his grip on Louis’ arm tightens. “do you think you can measure up to last night’s standard?”

Harry eyes snap open, a wicked grin nearly splitting his face in half as he tilts Louis’ chin up so he can look him in the eye. Louis looks back at him, expectant and amused. 

“You have absolutely no idea.”

 

 

/ / /

 

 

“Liam, you've stunk up the whole booth!” Louis screws up his face comically, holding his nose with one hand and waving the air in front of his face with the other. “Did you shit your pants or something?”

“Fuck you, Louis!” Liam responds cheerfully, shooting Louis an enthusiastic thumbs up. He drops into the empty seat on the other side of Zayn, instantly leaning back making himself comfortable.

“Alright Louis,” Julian calls, holding down one of the buttons of the control panel in front of him. “Let’s go, give it your best shot. We’re going from ‘think of how much love’.”

He lets go of the button he’s holding and presses another, starting the instrumental track to Strong that they’ve spent the last few weeks perfecting.

Julian helped produced Harry’s last album and, much to Harry’s delight, has volunteered to help One Direction with their new album. He’s kind of a genius, and he’s known the other four boys for all of a week and Niall already worships him. 

Now that all the songwriting is complete, they’re trying to tackle recording, and they’re so close to finishing now that Harry can taste it.

It’s sad though, he thinks, as he watches Louis nod along with the instrumental track until he reaches his cue. Recording this album has been perhaps the most significant event in Harry’s life, and, in all his naïveté, he’d never really considered what would happen when it’s over.

“Think of, how much, love that’s been wasted, people, always, trying to escape it, move on to stop their heart breaking.” Louis sings into the microphone, glancing at Harry just in time to shoot him an ear-to-ear grin as he sings, “But there’s nothing I’m running from, you make me strong.”

Harry feels like a lovesick teenager as he grins back, biting his lip and fiddling with his hands in his lap. Louis wrote those words for _him_. It still gives him shivers just to think about, and in the middle of the night when Louis rolls over, bare skin on Harry’s bare skin as he pulls him closer and sleepily mumbles “strong” into Harry’s hair, Harry feels like the luckiest man in the world for it.

“Alright, let’s take it again.” Julian instructs, Louis nodding along as he speaks. “A bit slower this time.”

“Okay,” Zayn starts quietly, bumping his fist on Harry’s knee. “so, I feel like we need to talk about this. Now that, you know, we actually can.”

Harry looks from Zayn back to Louis, the _this_ that Zayn is clearly referring to. He’s singing with his eyes closed now from inside the recording booth, one hand on his stomach and the other holding his headphones to his ear. 

“Is this the part where you like, tell me that you’ll break my legs if I ever hurt him?” Harry smirks, turning his attention back to Zayn.

Zayn scoffs, nudging Harry with his shoulder as Harry laughs along with him. 

“Idiot.” Zayn responds. “Look. As Louis’ best friend, I don’t want to see him get hurt.” Harry nods, understanding. He wants the same thing. It’s his priority, actually. “He may be… feisty, and aggressive, but it’s a front. He’s a romantic.” Zayn explains, pausing with a twinkle in his eye. “But you know that now.”

Harry bites his lip, the picture of smug as he chooses not to respond. 

“But, as _your_ best friend…” 

Zayn and Harry lock eyes for a moment, a fond smile spreading over Zayn’s face as he once again bumps Harry’s knee. Harry doesn’t remember the last time someone called him their best friend. Simple, basic words, but to hear it come from Zayn’s lips - so easily too - makes Harry want to turn it into a song. 

“I know that you’ve really liked Louis for a long time. Maybe since you first met him. And you’d never do anything to hurt him.” 

Harry has to give Zayn credit for his observational skills. Either that, or Harry had been way more obvious with his undying affection for Louis than even he thought possible. Probably the latter, if he thinks about it. 

Harry smiles back at Zayn for a moment, appreciative and understanding, before they both turn their attention back to Louis. He’s started recording his harmonies for the chorus now. The boys, with Julian’s help, have decided that Liam will carry the chorus - but, as with most of their songs, Louis’ harmonies are crucial to the overall sound.

“That’s great, Louis, you sound awesome.” Julian nods. The praise causes Louis’ face to nearly split in half, he’s smiling so much. “Let’s take it again, with the, lo-o-oo-ove, try doing it a bit more, like—“

“Looo-o-o-oove?” Louis sings, voice high and angelic. Julian nods again, this time enthusiastically as he gives Louis two thumbs up.

“Perfect.” Julian replies, starting the instrumental track again. 

“It’s an amazing song.” Zayn comments. “Really beautiful.”

“I think so.” Harry smiles. He wants to add _especially when Louis sings it_ , but even Harry knows when enough is enough. 

“I'd do anything to save it, why is it so hard to say it?” Zayn recites, shaking his head with a little laugh. “It’s seriously beyond me how you didn’t realise he was in love with you earlier.”

“Love?” Harry says, voice strained and squeaky as he tries to bite back a smile. The word sounds easy and appropriately weighted coming off his tongue. 

“Oh, come on." Zayn looks at him with an incredulous expression. “You’ve both practically had it written on your foreheads for months, but now you’re going to play coy?”

“I think I’m going to exercise my right to remain silent now, Zayn.” Harry smirks. He really can’t help but look smug. Louis loves him, and he loves Louis, and nothing else will ever be as important as that.

“Louis!” Julian exclaims as Louis wraps up his second round of harmonies. “Buddy, you are killing it!”

Louis grins bashfully, ducking his head and scratching his forearm. 

“You sound amazing, Lou.” Harry blurts, immediately grinning shamelessly under the scrutiny of the other three men in the room. 

“Aw, how cute, you have your own little cheerleader.” Niall announces as he enters the room, flopping down on the one of the two remaining spare chairs. He lets out a little ‘oof’ as he does, putting his legs up on the other chair and seemingly not noticing Harry, Zayn, Liam and Julian all staring at him.

“Niall,” Liam starts carefully. Niall looks up at him expectantly. “Have you been in the loo this whole time?”

“Yeah.” Niall shrugs nonchalantly. 

A chorus of groans comes from the other boys as they all cringe and fuss.

“You were gone for 45 minutes.” Zayn turns up his lip, and Harry swears he shuffles his chair away from Niall a bit. “We thought you’d gone home or something.”

Niall just shrugs with a proud smile, turning his gaze on Louis.

“Tommo!” He calls. Louis looks up expectantly, having been focused on rehearsing his harmonies. “How’s it going?”

“He’s doing really well.” Liam tells Niall as Louis gives him a silent thumbs up. “Once we get Zayn in there to redo his high notes, I think we’ll be finished Strong.”

“Louis, let’s go back to your solo, one more time.” Julian instructs Louis, starting the backing track over yet again. Liam leans forward to talk to Niall, and if Harry listens really hard he can hear them discussing the melody of Story Of My Life.

“This album’s gonna be amazing.” Zayn comments as he watches Louis sing, as if it’s the first time he’s actually realising it. “Like… we’re proper smashing it.”

“It’s going to be incredible.” Harry agrees, smiling at an awestruck Zayn as he considers this concept.

“Things are really looking up for us.” Zayn adds quietly after a moment, leaning back in his chair with a look of wonderment. 

“Yeah.” Harry agrees, eyes still fixed on Louis as he listens to Julian’s notes. He smiles broadly, genuinely. Zayn doesn’t realise how right he is. “All of us.”

 

 

/ / / 

 

T H R E EM O N T H SL A T E R

 

/ / /

The tension is palpable, the room so quiet that Harry thinks he could hear a pin drop. Niall looks from Zayn, who’s sitting next to him, to Louis, who’s standing in front of Harry with his arms crossed over his chest.

Liam’s watch beeps as another minute passes. Zayn’s shoes scuffle on the floor as he extends his legs out in front of him. 

“Anything yet?” 

“Liam, shut the fuck up!” Louis half-squeaks, smacking Liam on the arm. “Harry will tell us when it’s there. You asking about it every two seconds isn’t going to make it get posted faster.”

“No, Liam.” Harry smiles at him, pulling Louis into his lap and tightening an arm around his middle reassuringly. Louis’ voice only gets squeaky like that when he’s nervous. “Nothing yet.”

“They said it would be up at 9am this morning, it’s now 9:03, without promptness what are we?” Liam puffs, running a hand through his hand as he paces on the other side of the coffee table. Harry shifts on the couch under Louis’ weight. “Nothing. We’re nothing, that’s what.”

“Li, calm down.” Zayn giggles, reaching out to grab Liam’s arm. “It’s a great album. We know that.”

“We do.” Harry agrees, nodding in synchronisation with Niall, who’s seated next to Zayn on the other side of the living room. “And soon, everyone else will too.”

“In the meantime,” Niall starts, voice muffled as he tries to talk past his hand in his mouth, picking food off his teeth. “Let’s go around and say what our favourite song is from the album.”

“I like Story Of My Life.” Zayn says quietly, thoughtfully. Niall nods in agreement.

“Little White Lies.” Niall decides, stroking his chin now with the hand that was formerly in his mouth.

“Strong.” Louis says, as soon as the boys look to him for his answer. “Because Liam had nothing to do with it.”

Harry and Niall laugh quietly, but everyone knows Louis is only half-joking. Strong is his favourite, but for other reasons that he perhaps won’t admit until later when he and Harry are having dinner together alone in Louis’ flat. 

“How are we still friends?” Liam asks, tilting his head at Louis, who shrugs.

“Beats me. Don’t know how I’m still friends with any of you lot. I mean, I’m surprised you wanted to stick around after the first time we met, Haz.” Louis twists his head to look at Harry, sly smile spreading across his face. “People have a tendency to dislike me because of my foul nature, believe it or not.”

“People don't dislike you because you're foul.” Liam assures Louis, rubbing his knee comfortingly. “Don't get me wrong you are astonishingly foul, that's just not why people dislike you.”

“Awwwww,” Harry coos, squeezing Louis around the middle. “Louis, it’s okay, I still like you.”

“Yes, and we all heard just how much you like him last night.” Niall comments, smirking knowingly at Harry. 

If Harry is supposed to be ashamed of that, he definitely isn’t. Louis gives a stellar blowjob, and that’s something the whole world should know. 

“Alright, simmer down, simmer down.” Louis calls over the chorus of ‘oooooh’s. “You all love me, and that’s the end of that.”

“It’s true.” Liam admits, nodding his head. “You may be a dickhead, Louis, but you’re the first dickhead I’ve ever loved.”

“Aw, thanks Liam.” Louis slings his arm around Liam’s shoulders, pulling him in close.

Harry freezes as his laptop screen automatically refreshes, the long-awaited search result appearing at the top of his browser. Louis doesn’t seem to have noticed - none of them do. 

“Guys,” he says quietly. The room is instantly and eerily silent, everyone knowing what that tone means. “It’s up.”

Niall practically trips over Zayn’s feet as they all scurry to get to Harry’s side, but Harry swats them all away, pushing Louis onto the couch next to him and pulling his laptop into his lap.

“Everyone, calm down.” Harry tells them sternly. “And remember, we are proud of this album. You all are proud of this album, and we know how good it is.”

Liam nods eagerly, trying to peer over the back of the screen to read what it says.

It’s not that Harry expects the review to be bad - he knows in his heart of hearts that this is a great album, that it came from something truly special and a lot of hard work. It will change all of their careers, their lives. But he knows that sometimes, reviewers have their heads firmly up their asses and can’t see past the artist’s previous works or reputation. 

He also knows how crushingly devastating a bad review can be. But he doesn’t think that will be the case here. 

Harry takes a deep breath, clicking on the link titled “ _FOUR_ years, One Direction”. 

A large photo of the album cover appears, the boys a mixture of smiling and brooding above the word _FOUR._

“ _After a three-year disappearance into the void, we thought we’d seen the last of British boy-band One Direction. However, after an apparently much needed break, the boys are back with their second album - except, they aren’t boys anymore._ ” Harry reads out loud, feeling Louis’ hand squeezing the life out of his own more and more with every word.

“ _Working with Grammy winning artist Harry Styles—“_ all four boys start whooping and cheering at this mention, mussing up Harry’s hair and patting him on the shoulder. _“— and veteran songwriter/producer Julian Bunetta, the band’s members play more of an active role in shaping their sound with this album, with songwriting credits on all of the album’s fourteen main tracks. The result is a record that leans toward arena-filling classic rock and power pop via chunky, bold riffs, spacious percussion, and booming chants; when it clicks, like on the synth-pop-style ‘Stockholm Syndrome’ and the Mumford & Sons-esque ‘Through The Dark’, it reveals a valid alternative vision of chart pop that eschews the dominant contemporary influences of dance and hip-hop, a vision almost unique to One Direction.”_

“I don’t know what any of that meant, but it sounds good and I love it.” Liam gushes, wrapping his arms around Zayn’s shoulders from behind. 

“ _There’s something endearing to the revelation that left to their own devices, One Direction’s members just want to make heart-on-sleeve, slightly cheesy ’80s arena anthems in the vein of Journey, Bryan Adams, and Bruce Springsteen circa Born in the U.S.A._

“ _Basically, if you wrote One Direction off after their first album, I hope you’re ready to be proven wrong._

“ _The standout track is by far ‘No Control’.”_ Niall, Liam and Zayn break out into a chorus of cheers and applause as they tackle Louis, hitting him and poking at him as Louis grins the widest Harry has ever seen him. “ _Band member Louis Tomlinson is the genius behind this song, and it’s a nice transition from the cutesy romantic songs we heard from their first album. Tomlinson, who barely advanced beyond backup vocals on their debut, has really levelled up here; His reedy tenor is in especially fine form on ‘No Control’, punching out the chorus like the vocal equivalent of a pelvic thrust, and his bell-tone voice is what really makes this song special.”_

“Louis!” Niall cheers, planting a sloppy kiss to Louis’ blushing cheek. Harry can’t stop beaming as he watches Louis, still grinning from ear-to-ear. “You legend!”

_“‘My hands, your hands tied up like two ships’ sings Zayn to open ‘Strong’, a song about love and feeling safe with someone that's your soulmate etc etc and so on. Again, it's upbeat but quite 'mature', and certainly less teenage than What Makes You Beautiful. This isn't about a quick fumble, more a recently announced engagement - a love that runs as deep as the ocean.”_ Harry and Louis exchange meaningful looks, Louis squeezing Harry’s thigh as he sits back next to him on the couch. “ _It's also ridiculously catchy._

“ _Ultimately, One Direction’s FOUR, which hits retailers November 12, is actually pretty great — certainly better than it was expected to be._

“ _With support from a killer team - including songwriting pop star Harry Styles - we can't see the One Direction bubble bursting anytime soon, in fact, we're pretty sure we'll be blowing 1D-shaped bubbles for a long time to come._ Four out of five stars. _”_

As soon as Harry’s done reading the review, he shuts his laptop slowly as the rest of the boys start a vivacious round of applause. They’re all beaming, grinning widely as they look around at each other. Harry’s never seen such adoration. And honestly, he’s never felt more proud. His heart is swelling with pride, his smile widening with each second that passes as he takes the time to look at the expression on each boys’ face. 

“Bring it in, boys.” Liam says, eyes shining with tears as he stretches his arms out. The other four all hurry to Liam’s side, wrapping their arms around each other’s shoulders and waists. Harry’s hand finds Louis’ forearm, clutching onto it tightly. He needs Louis to know, needs to tell him how goddamn proud he is of him. 

Words will never be enough, Harry thinks. 

He leans his head in to Niall’s, pressing his curly locks again Niall’s blonde ones and choking out a shaky laugh.

“We did it.” Zayn murmurs quietly. All five of them are still, breathing shaky and faces red as they stand with their arms around each other. 

“We did it.” Louis repeats, breaking the circle to plant a lingering kiss to Harry’s cheek. He rests his forehead on the side of Harry’s head afterwards. Harry wraps both arms around him, worried that Louis might collapse without support. “I can’t believe it. We did it.”

“You did.” Harry assures him, beaming proudly as he peppers kisses on Louis’ warm cheeks.

“We did.” Louis repeats, kissing Harry long and proper as his hands grip onto Harry’s shoulders. 

As they separate, Louis licks his lips and looks down at his shoes, grip tightening on Harry’s arms like he’s overwhelmed with everything this moment is giving him.

He finally looks up Harry after five, ten, fifteen seconds, eyes wide and lip quivering.

“You never doubted me. Not for a second.” Louis tells him, each word slow and accentuated as it comes out of his mouth. “I couldn’t have done this without you. I _wouldn’t_ have done this without you.”

“Well lads!” Niall exclaims, pulling Zayn into his side with a broad grin. “I think this calls for celebratory drinks.”

“You fucking well bet it does.” Louis agrees, taking a moment to plant another big kiss on Harry’s lips before jumping into Niall’s arms, both boys cheering and laughing as they fall to the ground. 

And, well, it may be 9:05 in the morning on a Monday, but fuck it. Harry has more than enough to celebrate right now. 

 

 

/ / /

 

 

“Nervous?” Harry asks, leaning over just enough so that his voice can be heard over the applause of the crowd.

“Not at all.” Louis lies, eyes fixed straight ahead. Harry grins, prying one of Louis’ sweaty hands from his arm rest and holding it in his own.

“Don’t be. You’re here. You made it, and that’s what matters.” Harry continues to smile reassuringly, and Louis gives him an appreciative smile back.

“And the nominees for Album of the Year are…”

“We made it.” Louis repeats, squeezing harder on Harry’s hand. The crowd noise grows, applause louder, but Harry ignores it.

“We did.” He assures Louis. “Just relax, Lou.”

“One Direction, _FOUR._ ”

Louis’ grip on Harry’s hand tightens even more as people turn their heads to look at him and a large video camera is directed in his and the other boys’ faces. He smiles politely, clearly more nervous that Harry has ever seen him before.

“And the American Music Award goes to…”

But when Louis looks back at Harry and sees his big, dopey smile, he relaxes. Harry knows that he’s right. Nerves aside, they’re here. They made it. Together. And while the rest of the world exists, there is nothing that matters more than that.

“One Direction, _FOUR_!”

The entire place erupts, cheers and applause as Niall flings himself into Louis’ lap. Liam and Zayn are out of their seats already, hugging each other so hard Harry’s sure that neither of them will be able to breathe. 

Louis drags Harry out of his chair with him once Niall stands up, pulling Harry close and clutching on to him as he mutters “oh my god, we did it” into Harry’s ear, over and over again. 

“Congratulations, babe.” Harry laughs into Louis’ hair, patting his back soothingly. He pulls away, beaming proudly and pushing a lock of hair from Louis’ face. “Go get your award.”

Niall trips over Liam’s feet on his way to plant a wet kiss to Harry’s cheek, Zayn shaking Liam by the shoulders as the four One Direction boys make their way up to the stage.

“Don’t trip, Liam!” Harry hears Louis call as they approach the stairs. Liam responds by turning back to throw an arm around Louis shoulder, pulling him into his side and saying something inaudible into his ear with a big grin. 

Harry is the last one in the whole building to stop clapping, only sitting back down well after everyone else has - and even then, he waits until John Legend and Chrissy Teigan are looking at him like he’s mentally deficient. 

The presenter hands the small statue to Liam as they walk across the stage, all looking totally awestruck and bursting with excitement as they approach the podium.

“Wow.” Liam starts into the microphone, staring out at the crowd as the other three whisper and laugh behind him. “Thank you so much. This is absolutely incredible. This is our first award…” He looks meaningfully down at the trophy, still clutched in his hand, as he shakes his head. Harry’s grin gets wider, his cheeks starting to ache as he squeezes his right hand in his left. “Honestly, it’s been a long road to get here. But we did it, we made it, and I am so proud of these three boys behind me. They’re the best bandmates I could ask for. And thanks to our fans for always supporting us, and our families and friends and, um,” He pauses, blushing as he bites his lip. “I think Louis can take it from here.”

Louis pats Niall on the ass before approaching the microphone, still grinning like a madman. Harry wants to kiss every single part of his face and never stop telling him how proud he is. 

“Well, Liam pretty much said it all…” He starts. ”But there’s one person in particular I would like to thank.” Louis scans the crowd, looking from face to face with quivering lips. “You all know him as the guy who cleans up here every year without fail, but, I just call him my boyfriend.”

Liam beams from behind Louis, but Harry doesn’t see it, doesn’t see anything except Louis, standing tall and proud with the award clutched tightly in his grasp as he talks about Harry. His boyfriend. 

“Harry Styles, without you, we actually could not have done this. You had nothing but faith in us, in me, from the first day we started on this album, and for that we can never thank you enough. I love you so much.” Harry’s heart stops beating, his arms feeling weak as he tries to replay in his mind what just happened. Everyone in a nearby radius has turned to look at him, smiles directed to him as he finally catches up with himself, with the moment. He begins to grin, beaming again up at Louis even though he knows Louis can’t see him. Louis _loves_ him. He loves him he loves him he loves him, and oh my god, Harry loves him too. 

“Thank you.” 

Louis does a modest little nod, smirking as he turns back to Niall, Liam and Zayn. They walk off stage with their arms around each other, laughing and chattering and passing the trophy to each other as Harry claps so hard he thinks his hands might fall off. He doesn’t even care. It would totally be worth it. 

Harry has always wondered _what if_ , for as long as he can remember. _What if I’d done it different, what if I had been put in a group, what if I hadn’t gotten into the X-Factor, what if I just left it all behind_. 

As Niall, Liam, Louis and Zayn walk back to their seats, to him, he doesn’t find himself preoccupied thinking about the _what ifs_. Right now, he’s just happy thinking about how glad he is that everything happened exactly the way it did. 

Because with these boys, with Louis, for the first time in his life, Harry feels like he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be.

 

**Author's Note:**

> THANK YOU TO BRIGITTE AND AISHA AS ALWAYS honestly if aisha wasn't egging me on to write during my lunch breaks who knows when I'd even finish this. anyway comments are cool let me know what your favourite part was and that!!!


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